


Shrinking Snape

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Parody, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-16
Updated: 2007-11-11
Packaged: 2018-10-01 02:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 22,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10178264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: The classic setup - Longbottom botches a shrinking potion that causes Professor Severus Snape to shrink until he's three inches tall! And guess who gets to look after him? HARRY! Rating will go up in later chapters.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer: I am sure everyone is well aware of the fact that I do not own these characters, as well as the fact that I don't make any money from this. This idea came to me from The Indian in the Cupboard books I loved to read as a child, and I don't own those either.

 

Chapter One

Like most crazy adventures, the day had started out completely normal. Severus’ mantel clock had woken him at his usual time, and he had showered and dressed and gone to the Great Hall for breakfast. He had taken his usual two slices of dry toast and a cup of strong black coffee, and when breakfast was over he had swept off to the dungeon to prepare for his first class of the day.

He really had no indication that the day would be disastrous until an hour after lunch, when he had his least favourite class: sixth year Gryffindor and Slytherin.

He had entered the classroom in his usual way, with the slam of a door and the billowing of black robes. He strode menacingly to the lectern and glared at everyone present. He was prepared to begin class, but he wasn’t prepared for what happened when the practical lesson began.

Somehow, blasted Harry bloody Potter had managed to scrape an “E” in his OWLs and Dumbledore had insisted that Harry be accepted into NEWT Potions class. Grudgingly, Snape had gone along with the plan, and had welcomed not only Potter, but anyone else with an “Exceeds Expectations” into the class as well. 

That meant Longbottom got accepted. Neville Longbottom – the walking disaster.

Today the class was supposed to be brewing a simple shrinking potion – one that would last for only a couple of hours. 

But amazingly enough, Longbottom added the wrong ingredient at the wrong time and then proceeded to stir in the wrong direction.

Snape stalked forward, glaring down his hooked nose at the chubby boy.

“Longbottom! It seems once again you have managed to ruin a simple potion even a first year could do! Do you realize the consequences might be disastrous? I’m going to – ”

But Snape never got to dock house points or to give detention, because at that precise moment, the contents of the cauldron began boiling over rapidly and was forming a thick puddle on the floor.

“Get BACK! All of you. GET BACK!” Snape’s face was deadly pale. The botched potion had already seeped into his left shoe, and he was unsure of the outcome. The students all ran for the door, eager for an excuse to get away from Snape.

The other potions were stopped with a simple freezing charm, and then Severus reached for a vial from his pocket. This new potion must be investigated. He knelt down over the puddle and prepared to scoop some into the flask. He had no idea how slippery it was, and found himself face down in the puddle of muck. He groped about, trying to find something to pull himself up with, and found the rim of Longbottom’s cauldron. As he attempted to hoist himself to his feet, he pulled the cauldron over sideways, spilling everything that remained inside all over himself. He slipped one last time and cracked his head against the cold stone floor.

The last thing he heard was a ringing thud. Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter Two

Gradually, Severus became aware of several things. First, whatever he was sleeping on was very wet and very hard. Second, there was a loud and insistent knock coming from the door to his classroom.

Grumbling, he wrenched himself up and opened his eyes. What he saw almost made him pass out again. 

The room he was in was enormous! It must have been twenty or thirty times his size. Black eyes scanned his classroom. Desks that he had once leaned over while intimidating students now towered above him taller than any trees. The cracks in the stone floor were chasms.

Looking around, he found his wand in the puddle of botched potion. It was the size of a fallen tree! How on earth would he be able to pick it up?

The knocking on the door continued, ringing in Severs’ ears. It was then followed by a too-loud, “Er – Professor?”

“Great. It’s Potter,” Snape muttered, making his way toward the door. The walk was the equivalent of a half-mile, and it took Severus a good seven-and-a-half minutes to get there. 

Thankfully (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it) Potter didn’t give up in those seven or so minutes. He was Gryffindor, after all, and didn’t give up easily on a challenge.

Instead of walking away, he forced open the door and stepped inside.

Severus saw the giant trainer coming toward him and turned and ran in the other direction. He dove toward one of the desks and grabbed hold of the leg, trying desperately to keep out of the way of Potter and his feet.

“Professor?” Potter called again.

Severus clamped his hands over his ears, The noise was just to much for his tiny person!

“POTTER!” He screamed as loudly as he was able.

Harry Potter stopped short and looked around. He’d heard Snape say his name, but very quietly. Was he in the room?

Quickly, Harry began searching. He looked under desks, crawling about on his hands and knees. At long last, he reached the desk Snape was hiding under.

As Potter’s huge face came past, Severus decided his best chance of being found would be to run out where Potter could see him. And so he did.

Potter let out a yell and leapt to his feet, reaching for his wand.

“What the hell are you?” He screeched.

Snape covered his ears again. “POTTER, IT’S ME, YOU IMBECLIE!”

Harry knelt down again for a closer look. It did look like Snape. And it sounded like Snape. So – obviously – it was Snape. Only he was three inches tall.

“Professor?” Harry breathes, leaning down even closer so that his chin touched the cold, hard floor. “Professor, is it really you?”

“Yes, Potter. And I’ll thank you to keep your voice down. My ears are sensitive.”

“Sorry.” Harry grinned. “So – what happened?”

“Longbottom’s botched potion. Why are you here?”

“You missed dinner, and Dumbledore sent me to look for you. This is – wow. Can I pick you up?”

“I think you’d better. And take me to the headmaster’s office.”

Harry reached slowly out and pressed the tiny Snape between his thumb and forefinger. Snape winced, and Harry realized that he must be squeezing too hard. Quickly, he transferred Snape to the open palm of his other hand.

“I’ll walk slowly, okay?” Harry murmured, and saw Snape incline his head slightly in approval.

Unfortunately, Headmaster Dumbledore could do nothing to immediately help the situation. 

“I shall send out a sample of the potion to be analyzed, but that could take weeks. And in the meantime, Harry, I think you should look after our dear Professor.

“Why me?” Harry cried, just as the tiny Snape screamed, “Why Potter?”

“It safer if we don’t tell anyone else. There are people who would take advantage of Professor Snape in this situation. No, Harry is the best option. He can look after you, Severus. I trust him.

Severus crossed his tiny arms and grumbled to himself, “You can trust him. You don’t have to rely on him for everything.”

Desperate to get out of caring for his snarky bastard of a potions teacher, Harry asked, “Isn’t there some other way? I mean – the potions was only supposed to last for a couple of hours. Who’s to say it won’t wear off after a little while?”

Dumbledore smiled and twinkled his eyes. “I think not, Harry. I’m no expert, of course, but I think that this potion will permanent until an antidote is secured.”

Harry and the tiny Snape looked at each other. So they were going to be stuck with each other for possibly weeks. Great. So far this was looking like Harry’s worst school year yet.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Harry now had to figure out just what to do with his little Professor. He couldn’t tell anyone – that meant Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore had been very clear on that fact. So how was he going to do all this by himself?

Well, the first thing to be done was to find out how to get him up to Gryffindor tower without anyone spotting him. Harry wanted to slip Snape into the pocket of his robes, but he was afraid he’d hurt the professor.

“Just go on with it, Potter,” Snape grumbled. “Maybe it will kill me and I won’t have to worry about any of this anymore.”

Grumpily, Harry put Snape in his open palm and held his hand next to the pocket, letting Snape jump in by himself. Then, ever so carefully, he left the Headmaster’s office and began the long trudge up to his dormitory. 

“I’ll think of something,” Harry muttered to himself. “I just wish I could tell Ron and Hermione.”

Remarkably, they managed to make it all the way to the portrait hole before they ran into anyone. After that it was a different story. All of Gryffindor seemed to be crammed into the common room. Hoping he could slip up to the boys’ dormitory unnoticed, he slipped inside, keeping his head down. Alas, being inconspicuous was not Harry’s best activity. 

“Hey, Harry!” It was Ron. Harry’s best mate. And just one of the many people Harry was forbidden to tell about the tiny man riding in his pocket.

“Hey, Ron,” Harry said, trying to fake enthusiasm. 

“You up for a game of chess?”

“No. Sorry. I – ah – headache. Tired.”

Ron’s giant grin faded. “Oh. Right. Guess you’re going up to bed, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Ron.”

“’Night, Harry.”

Letting out a long sigh of relief, Harry took the stairs to his dormitory two at a time, no longer worried about hurting Snape. At last he was there, and he crawled quickly onto his bed and yanked the curtains closed. Time to get the professor out of that pocket.

“Professor?” Harry murmured, peeking into the dark pocket.

“Finally!” Snape said. “I was afraid you’d never get me safe. Now get me out of here!”

Harry reached in and scooped the poor professor out. Very gently, he tipped him onto the red and gold blankets of the bed and watched as the professor tried to stand, lost his footing on the softness of the bed, and went sprawling backward. Quickly, Harry reached under his bed and pulled out his advanced potions textbook for Snape to stand on.

“There are a few things we need to discuss,” Snape said as loudly as he could manage. “First – I need somewhere to stay during the day, because I’m not coming to classes with you in that awful pocket.”

“I guess I could clean out my bedside table drawer,” Harry said slowly. “I’d put you under the bed only Crookshanks likes to come in here sometimes, and I’m pretty sure he’d eat you.”

“Let’s see this drawer, then,” Snape said stiffly. Obviously, the thought of living in a drawer was upsetting him.

Harry peeked out of the curtains, to make sure no one was there, and then leaned out and pulled the drawer completely out of the bedside table. He brought it within the safety of his bed hangings and then dumped it out onto the bed.

There really wasn’t anything important in it, just some old parchment scraps and some ink bottles that he didn’t quite trust in his trunk. Well, there was one thing in the trunk that was important. It was Harry’s favourite personal lubrication. “Wanking oil” he’d dubbed it. But he didn’t want Snape to know about it, so as soon as everything was dumped out he snatched it out of the pile and stuffed it behind his pillow.

“Well? Lift me up so I can see it!” Snape demanded.

Harry obliged, carefully squeezing Snape between thumb and forefinger again. He very gently lifted Snape up and then very gently set him down inside.

“It smells like lavender,” Snape commented. He spotted an oily stain in one corner of the drawer and went to investigate. Taking a deep sniff of the oily substance, he suddenly smiled evilly. 

“So Potter enjoys Gerald’s Lavender Lubricant, does he?”

Harry blushed quite red. He hadn’t realized the bottle had left a slight residue in the drawer. Now Snape knew anyway.

“Yes,” Snape murmured, looking about. "This will do fine. Only I need furnishings. Shrink down a couple of chairs and a bed for me.”

“I can’t,” Harry groaned. “I’m terrible at shrinking charms. I usually get Hermione to do all that stuff for me.”

Snape rolled his tiny black eyes. “You’re telling me the savior of the wizarding world can’t even shrink a bed down to size for a three-inch person? What kind of wizard are you, Potter? What were you doing in class when Flitwick was teaching this?”

“I don’t know!” Harry said with intense frustration. “Probably having a vision sent by Voldemort to try and make me get the prophecy for him!”

“DON’T SAY THAT NAME!”

There was silence for a moment, and then Harry began sorting out the pile of junk on his bed. If he couldn’t shrink down a bed, then what could he do?

“I can cut up some of my old tee-shirts and make you a bed,” Harry suggested. “If you think that will be all right.”

“Whatever, Potter.”

So Harry got to it, pulling some of his older Dudley castoffs out of his trunk to make Snape a bed. He found a chocolate frog box at the bottom of his trunk and folded it to make a better shaped bed. Then he took a couple of scraps of tee-shirt and put them inside to be a mattress. Taking a couple more, he laid them on top and presented Snape with his new bed.

“I can get some better stuff tomorrow,” Harry said, stuffing the remnants back into his trunk. “I’ll borrow some stuff from the headmaster. I’m sure he has something I could use.”

Snape nodded. “This will do – but only for tonight. Tomorrow night I want a real bed.”

“Right,” Harry huffed. He hadn’t realized that caring for his professor would be quite this difficult. “Goodnight, Professor.”

Harry slid the almost empty drawer back into the table and shoved his pile of junk under his bed. Then he laid down, still wearing his robes, and fell asleep, thinking of all the things he’d have to do to care for the tiny professor.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 

Snape woke up in the middle of the night with a problem.

His bladder was full.

Very full.

So full it hurt to move.

Great.

And he couldn’t get out of the drawer.

Double great. He’d just have to hold it.

But after only one minute, it became clear that holding it was just not an option. He needed to go. NOW!

He began to pound on the inside of the drawer, hoping against hope that Potter would wake up. He didn’t.

Oh, Merlin! Any minute now he would wither explode or wet himself. He actually hoped it would be the former. Then he would die and wouldn’t have to face Potter in the morning.

He whimpered in a very uncharacteristic way and then grit his teeth and sat down on his “bed” trying desperately not to embarrass himself.

Suddenly, the drawer was yanked open from under him, and he flew backward and landed on the “floor” of his little home. A huge, groping hand was thrust in, searching for something. Careful to avoid the wandering fingers, Snape made his way to the edge of the drawer and jumped, trying to get over it. His bladder forgotten in his new predicament, Severus took a flying leapt and gripped the top of the drawer edge, hoisting himself up and onto the top of the little table. 

The drawer was slammed shut. Snape fell backward again as the table beneath him shook. The hand was now groping at the top of the table, still searching for something.

“Merlin, where is it?” Snape heard Harry mumble. It occurred to him at that moment that Potter was probably looking for his little bottle of lubricant. He spent a good ten seconds trying to rid himself of the images that surfaced with that knowledge.

“Potter!” He yelled as loudly as he dared.

He heard Harry sit straight up behind the curtains. 

“Bloody Hell!” Harry exclaimed, leaning forward and looking at Snape’s tiny form. “I forgot you were there! How’d you get out of the drawer?” 

To Harry’s credit, he was being very quiet and not hurting Severus’ ears, but right then there was something more important that was hurting the little man.

“I need to use the toilet,” Snape said matter-of-factly. There really was no use dancing around the issue. Any more wasted time and the worst would happen.

“Oh. Right. Er –”

“Potter, as endearing as your lack of articulation is at the moment, there are more pressing matters to attend to!”

“Right. Hold on, Professor.”

Harry gently picked him up again, careful to grab him by the torso and not the abdomen. After a quick glance around to make sure everyone else was still asleep, Harry slunk in to the boy’s loo and set his professor down on the rim of the toilet.

“There you go, Professor. Just don’t fall in.”

There was no time for a reply. Snape undid his trousers and released a tiny stream of urine into the bowl.

“Ah,” came the tiny sigh. Harry wouldn’t have heard it at all if he hadn’t been listening so closely. He began to count the seconds. Seconds turned into minutes, and Harry began to worry.

“Are you all right, Snape?” Harry asked softly.

“No, I’m not all right,” was the reply. “I’ve never gone this long before without taking a leak. So if you’ll just leave me to it . . .”

Harry blushed and took a few more steps away from Snape, to give him some privacy. Probably, Harry thought, when Snape had gotten shrunk his bodily systems backed themselves up a bit.

As he waited, his mind turned to the activity he’d been attempting to engage in before Snape fully woke him up. He was still half-hard, but dressed in his robes as he was no one would be able to tell. He thought about having a quick wank right then while no one was around and his back was turned toward Severus, but he knew no matter how quiet he tried to be, Snape would hear. He would know. Suddenly Harry wasn’t hard anymore.

“All right. I’m done, Potter.”

Harry turned around, careful not to look Snape in the face, and scooped him up. He poked his head out of the bathroom to make sure his fellow Gryffindor were asleep. They were – and snoring quite loudly, too. Harry very nearly sprinted back to his bed and deposited Snape in the drawer again.

“Potter, I’m going to need something – you know – to use when you’re in classes. Something you can empty when you get back.”

“Right,” Harry muttered. “Will a toothpaste cap work?”

“So long as you wash it out, yes. It will.”

“I’ll be right back.”

So Snape was set up with a “chamber pot” of sorts. It would be gross, Harry thought, but it was better than him soiling his clothes. Speaking of clothes . . . 

“You don’t have any extra clothes, do you?”

“Potter, do I look like I have any extra clothes?”

“Right. I’ll talk to the headmaster about getting you some. Maybe we can shrink down some of your stuff.”

“I do hope so.”

“Will you be okay for the rest of the night, Professor?”

“I do believe so. But leave the drawer cracked open, just in case.”

Harry did so. “I’ll see about making some kind of ladder or something that you can climb up to get out during the day.”

There was no response from the dark drawer, so Harry laid down in his own bed, still not bothering to undress, and tried to go to sleep.

Though he was still not happy about having to care for everyone’s least favourite professor, Harry did have to admit that this was a very unique situation. There’d been this film once, that Dudley had watched, where a little boy had a magic cupboard that brought plastic things to life. Of course, when Vernon had found out that it was about magic, he quickly turned it off. But the idea had always thrilled Harry. To care for a little person and make them little things . . . it would be so neat. And now he finally got a chance. 

He had his own tiny Snape. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

 

Harry woke up very late the next morning and as a result had to skip his shower and go straight to breakfast. It wasn’t until he was on his way to his first class that he remembered Snape was in his bedside table.

“Fuck!” He swore. Snape would be locked up there until lunchtime with nothing to do and nothing to eat. Just lovely. The little bastard would be angry about being forgotten, and with good reason, too. Snape had always been independent. This must be a very unique form of torture to him.

“Are you okay, Harry?” said Hermione as they sat down together in Defense Against the Dark Arts. “You look a bit tired.”

“You still got that headache, mate?” Ron asked concernedly.

“Er – yeah,” Harry lied, eager for them to drop the subject. He was afraid he’d let something slip.

“Is it You-Know-Who?” Hermione sounded very anxious. 

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. “No, Hermione. It’s not Voldemort. It’s just a headache.”

“Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey . . .”

“Fuck, Hermione! I’m fine!”

“Mr. Potter! Language!”

Harry looked up into the stern face of his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, young Miss Millie Vermitt. 

“Sorry, Professor.”

“If it happens again, you’ll find yourself in detention, young man.”

Ron watched as Professor Vermitt walked away, enthralled with the way her round rump moved as she walked. “Bloody hell, mate. Detention with her would be lovely.”

“Why, Ron? Because she’s young and has a plump arse?” Hermione glared at the redhead. “Or because it would give you a chance to watch said arse?”

Ron blushed crimson. He couldn’t put anything past Hermione.

“Everyone take a seat please, and shut your traps.” Miss Millie Vermitt was an American, and young and pretty though she was, she wasn’t sweet at all and didn’t take shit from anybody. For a while it had been rumored that she was attempting to seduce Severus Snape, the youngest male faculty member at Hogwarts. But the rumors were unfounded. Unbeknownst to the students, Millie was carrying on a secret relationship with Madam Rosmerta of the Three Broomsticks.

“Today we will be studying two new spells for simple defense. Honestly, you should have covered these two years ago, but with all the turnover you’ve had in this class it’s a wonder you’ve managed to learn anything at all. If I could have two volunteers? Hermione and ah, Mr. Potter. How about you?”

Harry had no desire to get up in front of the class and make fool out of himself. His thoughts were with the little man upstairs in his dormitory. What was he doing? Was he bored out of his mind yet? Would he be able to get out of the drawer in an emergency?

“MR. POTTER!” Vermitt screeched. “If you aren’t going to pay attention, then will you please leave the classroom.”

Glad for an excuse to sneak up to his room, Harry picked up his bag and left amid stares from the rest of the class. As he was opening the door to leave, he heard Hermione hastily explaining his behavior.

“He’s had a horrible headache all morning, Professor.”

He grinned. Well, he’d gotten out of one class today. Maybe he had time to go and visit the headmaster.

 

“Harry! Harry, my boy. What brigs you here during classes? Is it Voldemort? Have you had a vision?”

“No, Professor. I – I wanted to talk to you about Snape.”

“Certainly. Certainly. Could I get you some tea?”

“Er – no, Professor. I really don’t have a lot of time.”

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore leaned over his desk toward Harry.

“Has he begun annoying you, yet?”

“No, sir. It isn’t that. It’s just – he doesn’t have any furniture, and I’m total crap at shrinking charms . . .”

“Certainly! Certainly. I suppose he wants me to shrink some things for him, then.”

“Yeah. Like his bed and some clothes and books and stuff.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily, “where have you put him?”

“Oh. The drawer of my bedside table. No one dares open it.”

“An excellent spot. Yes. We’ll just go down to his chambers then and retrieve him a few items.”

It was along walk down to the dungeons, and an even longer walk to Snape’s chambers. Harry knew he’d never remember the labyrinth of corridors, and thought perhaps Snape had hidden his chambers down this far so that no student could bother him.

“Ah, this is it, Harry. If you would kindly step back.”

They had stopped in front of a very ordinary looking door. Harry took a step back and watched as the aged headmaster placed his right hand in the very center of the door and began to murmur a spell. The door glowed white for a second, and then there were clicks and rattles of chains. Dumbledore grasped the handle and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. A voice came out of nowhere; an eerie, serpentine voice.

“Sssseverusss doess not want you inssside, Headmassster.”

“I am here to get his bed and some clothes for him. There was an accident in the potions classroom yesterday.”

“I know all about it,” said the disembodied voice. “But Sssseverusss ssstill doess not want you inssside, Headmassster.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Dumbledore turned away from the door. “I can’t get in.”

“You’re the Headmaster! Can’t you force your way in?”

“Alas, no. I trust my staff, and it is strictly written in their contracts that should they wish me to keep out of their private chambers, I cannot enter.”

Harry sighed. Well, he supposed he’d better come up with a plan B, then.

“Can you shrink down some other bed, then? Conjure one and shrink it down?”

“Certainly.” And Dumbledore did so.

“And some clothes?”

Suddenly Harry had a small jewelry box in his hand. He opened it and inside found an entire wardrobe in varying colors of the rainbow. Harry grimaced but said nothing.

“Anything else, Harry?”

“A chair, I guess. And some books. He’s got to have something to do during the day.”

When Harry had those in his hands, too, the Headmaster led him back out of the dungeons and Harry sprinted upstairs to give everything to the tiny Snape.

 

 

How am I doing? Is it enjoyable? I promise the rating will go up, it's just going to take a bit while everyone settles in. - SRFORESTS


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

 

Snape was unhappy. Not only had he passed the night on a pile of old tee-shirt scraps stuffed in a chocolate frog box, but he’d been forced to pee in a toothpaste cap. And on top of all the other grave injustices he’d endured at Potter’s hand, it seemed he’d been forgotten when Harry went down to breakfast. So when Potter arrived to bring Severus the things Dumbledore had shrunk for him, he got quite an earful from the tiny man. 

“You are the most irresponsible individual I’ve ever been forced to tolerate!” began the tirade. It was very long – about eight or so minutes – and concluded with, “And where’s my breakfast?”

“I don’t have any food for you,” Harry said calmly, despite his dressing down. “But I do have some other things.”

And here he laid everything out inside the drawer. Snape walked up to the doll sized bed and examined it, even going so far as to lay down on it to test its firmness. He ordered Potter to open the jewelry-box wardrobe.

“Oh, Merlin! Please tell me these are no the only clothes I have.”

“They’re all the headmaster gave me.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off his inevitable headache.

“Please tell me you can do color changing spells.”

Harry grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. “I can a little.”

“Then do it. Turn everything in here black.”

Nervously, Harry pulled the clothes out and pointed his wand at them, saying what he thought was the correct spell for changing things black. When he dared to look at his handiwork, he found that instead of being various colors of the rainbow, the robes were one of two colors – red or gold. He gave a little shaky laugh.

“Er – Professor?”

“Never mind, Potter. I’ll just wear what I’m wearing now.”

“For weeks?”

“Yes, if necessary. Just – put them somewhere. I don’t want to see them.”

Severus then turned his attention to the pile of books the headmaster had given him. He realized with a snort that they were Muggle books. Muggle fiction.

“What was he thinking?” Snape murmured, glancing at one of the titles. It was basically a gay porn book. Was he, Severus Snape, that obvious about his orientation?

“Ahem,” Harry cleared his throat. “Er – everything all right, Professor?”

Snape sighed. No, everything was no all right. “Yes, Potter.”

“Good. Er – I’ll be back after lunch. I’ll bring you some food this time, I promise.”

“See that you do.” Snape settled himself down in his new tiny chintz armchair with the gay erotica book. “Just do me a favor and leave the drawer open enough that I can see to read.”

“Sure. I’ll – I’ll get you a candle or something that won’t burn out. Hermione’s really good at casting little tiny fires that don’t burn anything.”

Snape nodded. “Fine, then Potter. After lunch.” And with that he absorbed himself in the book.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

 

Snape had to admit that even though it was a Muggle book, and it had no plot whatsoever, Dumbledore certainly did have taste when choosing gay erotica. 

 

Gregory licked his lips and then licked the tip of Robert’s glistening cock.

“You taste so exquisite,” Greg whispered huskily. “I want to taste all of you.”

Robert’s only response was a deep, guttural moan. Then the moist, wet heat of Greg’s mouth encompassed him and he very nearly came right then and there.

“Please, oh please!” Robert whispered. “Please! Please, Greg.”

 

Snape had found himself completely drawn into the book. Each mention of Robert Griffith’s moans or Gregory Artick’s talented tongue made his cock twitch in his trousers. For a while, he did his best to ignore it, afraid that someone might walk in and find him. But after a while he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

He set the little paperbacked book down on the “floor” beside him and slumped down in the chair. He hadn’t masturbated in at least a week. Teaching teenaged brats and devising new tasks for detentions took up most of his time during the school year, but he still usually set aside one or two nights week just for himself to get some much needed relief of tension. But now, faced with an unforeseen future of living in a nightstand drawer, he realized he had all the time in the world in which to leisurely stroke his cock.

“Ahh,” was the contented sigh as he released his erection from his black trousers. He absently began stroking it in his usual way, with a slight twist at the end.

“I wonder how long I can resist orgasm,” he said out loud to himself. 

No one was there. He had at least two hours before Harry came back from lunch. A perfect time to have a contest with himself.

He forced himself to control his movements. He set up an excruciatingly slow rhythm. Under normal circumstances it would have fairly killed him, but right now he was only concerned with holding it off until he absolutely couldn’t anymore.

It was something he’d devised as a teenager to make his wanking sessions more intense and less frequent. The more he teased himself before hand, the harder he came.

He squirmed a bit as his erection hardened even more in his hand. He wanted nothing more than to grip it harder and pump furiously away, but he couldn’t, not if he wanted to prove to himself that he still had the willpower.

“Concentrate,” he told himself as his hand sped up involuntarily.

When it became clear that he didn’t have enough willpower to keep teasing himself, he removed his hand from his prick entirely and sat straight up in his chair. Punishment. That’s what this was. He forced himself to just look at his cock.

It was long and thick. Without touching, he looked at the familiar ridges and the thin, stretchy foreskin. It was angry and almost purple looking in the dim light, and curved slightly to the right. This was his favourite organ.

Suddenly he gripped it tight with his right hand and began pumping in earnest. Oh, yes. He was so close. So close. He felt his balls began to tighten and draw upward. Any minute now. Oh, oh, oh . . .

“Yesssss,” Severus hissed, arching his back as spurt after spurt of come coated his hand. It dribbled down his fingers and onto his trousers, which he realized he had not removed. 

He collapsed back into the chintzy armchair, panting. “Just great,” he said to himself. He’d gotten come on his trousers. Unless he got Potter to clean them, he’d go around smelling like come for forever. And it would stain, too, and even Potter would know what he’d been up to.

But at the moment he couldn’t make himself do anything. He was too sated. He closed his eyes and settled himself further aback in the chair. He wasn’t going to go to sleep. He really wasn’t. Only he did. He fell asleep sitting in that chair with come all over his hand and his trousers and his spent cock still hanging out. And that was how Harry found him when he came back after lunch.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

 

“Professor Snape?” Harry whispered as he reached the dormitory door. He didn’t want to startle the tiny man. “Er – Professor?”

When there was no reply he crept closer and peered into the little drawer.

“Fuck!” Harry murmured, gazing upon the man, asleep in his chair in a thoroughly debauched position. 

He would have just turned away and pretended that he hadn’t seen anything, but Snape chose that exact moment to wake up.

They were both pretty mortified, to say the least. At finding himself exposed, Snape leapt up and tried hastily to shove himself back in his trousers and found his hand still covered in ejaculate. He was making a bigger mess than before, and damn Potter didn’t have the decency to turn away for even a second.

There were another few seconds of scrambling about, and then silence. Harry, blushing scarlet from his face to his toes, held out his hand with some tiny crumbs from lunch. 

“Your lunch, Professor,” he mumbled, and felt the food being snatched out of his palm. He desperately hoped Snape was not grabbing it with his come-covered right hand.

“Thank you, Potter,” Snape sighed.

“Er – maybe you should change into one of those other sets of robes, Professor. I can clean those black ones for you.”

“I suppose I should.”

“And er – maybe you should have a bath? I’ve got this little container I can wash out. It would make a perfect bathtub.”

Snape coughed, trying to force out another thank you. “That – will be nice, Potter. Go – go do that while I eat.”

So Harry, still blushing deeply, fetched the little tin out of his trunk that Mrs. Weasley had sent him sweets in for his birthday. It was small and not very deep, but if filled with hot water and some bubbles, it would make a very nice bath.

So he filled it and brought it back to his dear professor, who had stripped off his precious black and was wrapped in one of the scraps of tee-shirt from his bed of the previous night.

“If you could just wash them, then,” Snape choked out. He knew the proper thing to say to Potter was, ‘Thank you for the bath,’ but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words.

As soon as Potter had taken his dirty robes and turned away, Snape dropped the scrap of shirt and slid into the little tin of warm water. It was almost too warm, and there were so many bubbles he was almost afraid he’d swallow one, but he had to admit that it felt nice to relax in the water.

He didn’t have any soap to wash with, so he scooped up a handful of bubbles and rubbed them into his skin absently. If he ever chose to masturbate again, he’d better do it more discreetly. He’d just die if Potter walked in and found him exposed again. 

Of course, thinking about wanking was having an effect on his wayward cock. The tip was bobbing out of the water now, the cool air meeting just the tip and turning him on even more.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Snape growled, grabbing his prick tightly in his fist. Might as well get one more orgasm out of this. And in the water, Potter would never even know.

It was like being a teenager again, Severus thought as he spilled his seed into the warm bath. He kept getting hard. Why? Was it the proximity to Potter, another (rumor had it) gay male? Or was it something else? Severus decided he did not want to look too closely into that.

“Right. Your clothes are clean. I couldn’t dry them, because I don’t really know how to do drying spells, but they can dry on their own. They’re so small I don’t think it will take long. And here’s some of the others for you to wear once you get out – just until yours dry, of course.”

“Right. Right. T-thank you, Potter.”

“Do you need anything else before I go to class?”

“Yes. How about you empty that toothpaste cap for me. The smell is near killing me.”

Harry ran and did that and came back, holding a freshly washed toothpaste cap toilet. 

“Anything else?” he asked as he set it in place.

“No, I think that’s all.”

“Okay, then. I’ll – uh – take the bath away before dinner, then. I have a free period just before dinner.”

Snape nodded. The water was quickly cooling off and he wanted Potter to leave so he could get out and dry off.

“Fine, Potter. See you then.”

“Okay.” 

And mercifully, Harry left. Snape stood and grabbed his tee-shirt scrap towel and rigorously rubbed himself dry. He tried not to look at the robes as he was putting them on, afraid that he would throw up it if he did.

He was cold. He’d stayed in the cold water too long, and not even getting dressed was warming him up. He went over to his little bed and climbed under the blankets, pulling them tightly around him. It still wasn’t enough. He took all the blankets from the bed and all the dry tee-shirt scraps and wrapped himself up in them. There. Toasty. Only there was nothing to do now. He couldn’t even read, as both hands were holding blankets tightly around him. He decided to take another little nap. Potter wouldn’t mind. He really wasn’t all that sleepy, but when you’re faced with hours of boredom, you find yourself tiring very quickly.

“I won’t sleep long,” Snape said to himself. “Just long enough to get good and warm, and then I’ll read some more. I won’t sleep long. I won’t . . . sleep . . . long . . . .”

 

I want to take some time out and thank those who are reviewing. I am glad you are enjoying the story, and I can't tell any of you how happy it makes me to click on unanswered reviews and find two or three waiting for me. I encourage all of you to review. Is there something you particularly liked? Tell me! Is there something you didn't like? Tell me! Is there some particular situation you want our dear potions master in? Tell me! I write each chapter just before I post it, and though I know in my head what I want to happen, there is a lot of time in between for adventures. So REVIEW! Feed the author.

SRFORESTS


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

 

Harry really couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day. No matter how many times he told himself that Snape was just fine, he couldn’t stop imagining terrible scenarios. Like, for instance, Crookshanks jumping up onto the night table and swiping Snape out of the drawer with a paw and swallowing him whole. Or Hedwig somehow getting into the room and grabbing him in her claws and swooping out the window with him.

Of course, everything that Harry imagined couldn’t possibly be any worse than what was really happening.

“Aaachoo!” Snape sneezed forcefully, waking himself up.

“Oh, great,” he murmured, shivering and pulling his blankets closer. “I’ve caught a cold. How lovely.”

His head was throbbing, his nose was all stopped up, and there was this tickle in the very back of his throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he coughed.

“Potter, I’m going to kill you,” he moaned piteously.

Which, of course, was intensely funny considering how tiny Snape was at the moment.

Harry’s free period couldn’t come fast enough. It was funny, Harry thought, that he liked his professor so much more when he was three inches tall. 

The bell rang at last and Harry bolted up the stairs, ignoring Hermione and Ron’s confused looks. He tore up through the corridors, narrowly avoiding tripping over Mrs. Norris. The fat lady couldn’t open the portrait hole fast enough, in his opinion.

“Professor?” Harry called from the door to the dormitory. “Professor Snape?”

The sight that greeted him was not at all what he expected.

Snape was huddled in his little armchair, shivering. His tiny face was flushed and he was coughing rather violently.

“Er – Professor?”

“You did this to me!” Snape moaned. “You – you wouldn’t leave and I had to sit in that water until I caught a cold!”

“I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t think –”

“That’s your problem, Potter! You never think! Why Dumbledore trusted you is beyond my reasoning. You can’t do shrinking spells, you can’t do color-changing spells, you can’t even do drying spells. What kind of wizard are you?”

“A powerful one,” Harry replied angrily. He didn’t have to explain himself to this – this – doll sized professor! “And I’m going to kill Voldemort, so you’d better be a little nicer to me.”

“DON’T SAY THAT NAME!”

There was another silence, broken only by Severus’ coughing and sniffling.

“Well, I can’t leave you here if you’re sick.”

“Well spotted, Potter.”

“You’ll just have to ride in my pocket to dinner. I’ll take you to Dumbledore and see if he can help.”

“That damn pocket.”

“Well, not exactly. It’ll be safer if you are in my trouser pocket.”

“What, and get squished every time you sit down? Somehow, I don’t think so, Mr. Potter.” Snape would have continued, but he was attacked with a coughing fit at the very last word, and couldn’t speak for at least a minute.

“Come on, Professor. Do you want to see the headmaster or don’t you?”

“Fine,” Snape choked. “Fine.”

He let himself be scooped up and slipped into the warm pocket of Harry’s trousers.

“Dinner first. Are you hungry?”

There was no reply, so Harry took that as a no. “Okay, then. Dinner and then I’ll take you to see the headmaster.”

There was really only one major problem with Harry’s grand scheme. The pockets in his Hogwarts trousers were very deep, and could sometimes shift around. Snape was at the bottom of one of these pockets, and when Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, Snape’s warm little body was pressing up against Harry’s groin, and he could feel every little movement the tiny man made.

As a teenager, Harry’s body was overly sensitive to tiny warm touches and to both his and Snape’s horror, he found himself getting hard. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Snape told his own erection as he felt Harry’s growing beside him. “It’s bigger than I am,” he murmured aloud. 

No, had Snape not been feeling under the weather, this might have been a very nice predicament indeed. Trapped in a pocket against a very warm, very hard cock. Yes, that would have been very nice indeed, no matter whose cock it was. But as it was he was sick, and the only thing he could now enjoy was the extra warmth all of Harry’s hot blood was radiating into the pocket.

“Thanks, Potter,” he murmured, knowing Harry couldn’t hear him. It was practice, he thought. Practice for when he finally got out of this whole mess and could appreciate everything Potter was doing for him.

“I must be sicker than I thought,” he snorted, burrowing down further into the pocket, seeking out more heat.

 

Alas, I’m sorry to say that because of the Thanksgiving holiday, and because of the two research papers I have due soon, I will not be able to really post for a while. I’m not going to say that I won’t post at all, because if I find some time over the next week or so, I will certainly work on this story. So be patient, because I will finish this story. I’m as eager as you are to see where it’s going. ;) SRFORESTS


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

“Professor Snape? Professor, wake up!”

Snape was upset at having been woken from his nap and taken from his warm bed. He was lying, he realized, on a very large desk, right next to a swimming pool sized dish of enormous lemon drops. Oh, no. Dumbledore.

“Glad you could finally join us, Severus,” Dumbledore smiled. “I see you have a bit of a cold.”

Snape rolled his aching eyes and choked back a violent sneeze.

“Oh, well done. I suppose now you’ll run off and make yourself a detective.”

“He gets grumpier when he’s sick,” the Headmaster explained to Harry. “Best do everything he wants for the next few days.”

“That’s it? Can’t you do something to help him?”

“I’m afraid not, Harry. It’s a cold. There are no potions that can cure the common cold – there are millions of different forms of it, you know. All you can do is keep him warm and comfortable until it runs its course. Make sure he gets plenty to drink.”

“Can’t – aren’t there potions that can help with the symptoms, though?”

“Yes, Harry. But I’m sorry to say that the dosage would be too large for him, and it could be very dangerous to simply guess the dosage level.”

“Headmaster,” Severus croaked (his throat really was getting very sore), “would you happen to know what became of my wand?”

“Yes, Severus. I have it here, as a matter of fact.”

“Why can’t you just shrink his wand down for him?” Harry asked.

“It will ruin it. The magical core cannot be safely shrunk. It will either resist shrinking completely, or it will self destruct. Wands are very delicate objects, Harry.”

“Well, I can’t take care of him and go to class at the same time!” Harry grumbled, exasperated.

“How many classes have you missed this year?”

“None – well, except today. I walked out of Vermitt’s class to come and see you.”

“Then I’m sure your professors won’t mind if you take a day off to settle in our little professor.”

Dumbledore obviously thought his reference to Severus’ current size was funny, as he ended with a chuckle.

“What about Ron and Hermione? What will I tell them?”

“Tell them anything you like, Harry, but keep Severus a secret. He’s extremely vulnerable.”

“Just – just a couple more questions, Professor. What happens if he gets summoned or something? I mean, he obviously can’t go like this – they’ll step on him or something.”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. If he is summoned, you will bring him here immediately. There isn’t much I can do for him, but perhaps we can avoid that situation altogether.”

“Who’s teaching my classes?” Severus asked quietly. Dumbledore didn’t hear it, but Harry did.

“Who’s teaching potions?”

“A wonderful young lady – just moved here with her family from America. She’s not as intimidating a professor as Severus, but she knows the material well enough. I’ve told the school that you were knocked unconscious and are now in a magical coma,” The headmaster addressed the sick little professor. “Hopefully that story will reach Voldemort and he won’t call you at all.”

 

The meeting with the Headmaster had proved fruitless. Harry was no where nearer to getting everything he needed to take care of Snape, and now the tiny man had to suffer through a cold that he couldn’t take any potions to alleviate. And it was all Harry’s fault. He was so caught up worrying about what to do with Snape that he didn’t see Alana Masterson until he’d knocked her down and landed fully on top of her.

“Sorry!” He cried. Harry was thinking only of Snape, trapped in his trouser pocket. He sprang up, hoping he hadn’t squashed him.

“That’s quite all right, Mr.?”

“Potter. Harry Potter.”

“Ah. The Boy-Who-Lived. I’m Alana Masterson. The substitute Potions professor.”

She was a heavy woman with short brown hair tucked behind her ears and dancing brown eyes. Though she was probably what one would call obese, she was somewhat lovely.

“I – uh – didn’t see you there.”

“I noticed, Mr. Potter. Shouldn’t you be up in your dormitory?”

“Uh – yeah. I had a meeting with Dumbledore.”

“Well, go on and I won’t give you detention this time. Should we meet again after curfew, please take note that you will be serving detention.”

“Right. Thanks – er – Professor.”

And Harry took off up to Gryffindor tower, eager to see if Snape was okay.

“When did I start caring about him?” Harry asked himself quietly as the Fat Lady opened the portrait hole.

 

Finally! I put off those research papers until the very last minute (like I always do). Unfortunately they were more work than I anticipated. For the past two weeks I’ve done nothing but work on “Women Still Considered Unequal”. It’s so nice to come back to Sev and Harry! - SRFORESTS


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

“You saw her, Hermione! She’s huge! She’s like a walking balloon!”

“That’s enough, Ron. You shouldn’t talk about a professor that way!”

“But Hermione –”

“It’s disgusting. She has a genetic problem which makes it hard for her to lose weight! And you’re making fun of it!”

“I think she just needs to lay off the sweets,” Ron laughed, and several other boys laughed as well.

Harry edged into the room, trying very hard not to be noticed. He wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Harry, help me out here,” Ron asked, pulling him forward into the group. “You’ve seen Masterson, haven’t you?”

“Er – yeah. Just a few minutes ago.”

“And she was like walking lard, right?”

Harry didn’t want to answer that question. Yeah, she’d been heavy, but she wasn’t all that heavy.

“I don’t know, Ron. I didn’t think she was that bad.”

Hermione took Harry’s arm and pulled him toward her. “See, Ron? Not even Harry agrees with you.”

“Yeah, but everybody else does.” Ron gestured to the other guys in the common room, who were all hanging around Ron.

“So? Who needs you?” All the Gryffindor girls were gathered around and behind Hermione, and when Hermione stood up and went off to her dormitory, all the other girls went, too, except one little chubby third year, who stood up straight and addressed the Gryffindor boys.

“You have no idea what it’s like, do you? Being overweight is hard on a girl. You are all so insensitive. I’d be surprised if any one of you still has a girlfriend in the morning.”

Neville, who had been up in the boy’s dormitory, chose to come down the stairs at the exact moment the little third year was going up, and she gave him a hard shove when he didn’t get out of her way fast enough.

“What happened down here?” He asked innocently.

Ron huffed and he and the other boys began saying very loudly how stupid the girls were being, knowing they’d be able to hear from the dormitory. Harry took that opportunity to slip off upstairs.

“Professor Snape?” He murmured as he drew the professor from his pocket. 

“Yes, yes. I’m still alive,” Snape growled, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to keep warm.

“I was going to ask Hermione to light me a candle or something so I could keep you warm, only now she’s stormed off.”

“Well, just go and get her.”

“I can’t. Boys can’t get into the girls’ dormitory. Something about Godric Gryffindor not trusting boys.”

“Very wise,” Snape grumbled. 

Harry gently set him inside the little drawer and stole a candle from Neville’s night table. He lit it with a match from Dean’s table and set it very carefully inside the drawer.

“Do you know any spells or anything that I can use to keep this from burning out or from setting fore to the drawer?”

“Only Deflagrare* will stop the candle from burning. It’s not a hard spell, Potter, though I’m not entirely sure you can handle it.”

Harry crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. “I can do it. I know I can.”

“You’re sure, Potter? What if you mess up? I could be caught in a burning drawer. And it would be completely your fault if I died.”

“Right. Maybe I can’t. I’ll – uh – see if I can’t get a message to Hermione or something. The only problem is that I can’t tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

Harry whipped around to find Hermione standing less than a few feet from him and the little Snape.

“That – er – ah –”

“Come on, Harry. You’ve always been a terrible liar. Tell me what?”

Harry was torn between telling his dear friend and keeping his promise to Dumbledore. He thought for a good three minutes. In the end, Harry took a deep breath and reached into his nightstand drawer. “You – um – er – can you keep a secret?”

 

* Deflagrare I kind of made up. I looked the word up in a Latin dictionary, and then fixed the ending so that it sounded more “spell-like.” I hope anyone who has studied Latin will not be offended by my obvious lack of Latin knowledge. Oh, and just in case anyone is worried, Alana Masterson will not have a very major part in this story, although she will play a small role. Hogwarts needed a bit of new blood.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione breathed, leaning down to get a better look at Snape. “What happened to him?”

“Permanent shrinking solution, apparently. Dumbledore’s sent some of it out to be analyzed so they can make an antidote.”

“And now he’s sick?”

“Yeah. I mean, look at him. He’s caught a really bad cold, it looks like.”

“I am still here!” Snape bellowed, followed by a violent fit of coughing.

“You need to keep him warm,” Hermione instructed. She cast a quick charm on the candle to keep the wick from actually burning down and to keep the flame contained so it wouldn’t catch the drawer on fire.

“There. Put him in. Is there anything else you need, Professor Snape?”

“Yes. Turn all those robes black, Miss Granger.”

Harry handed Hermione the tiny wardrobe thing and without a moment’s hesitation she turned everything inside black.

“Yes, I can live like this,” Snape murmured, glancing appreciatively at the black clothing.

“Do you need some more books, Professor? I can shrink some of mine down for you.”

“That would be – satisfactory, Miss Granger. And now if you could both stop staring at me like some rare specimen at a zoo, I’d be very much obliged.”

Hermione turned her eyes away immediately and began drilling Harry about what he’d done for Snape so far. Harry, however, found it hard to look away. He kept sneaking glances at Snape and he moved lethargically around his little home.

Severus, finally thinking that nobody was watching, walked over to his little toothpaste cap toilet and began urinating. Unfortunately, he didn’t know Harry was still watching as he undid the zip of his trousers and pulled out his cock.

Harry couldn’t really see much at all, being that Snape was so small, but it was just the concept of the thing – watching as Snape had a pee. It had interesting effects on Harry’s teenage body.

“Er – Hermione? I’m a bit tired. I’m gonna go to bed. D’you mind?”

“No, of course not, Harry. Good night.”

As soon as Hermione had gone, Harry yanked the curtains around his bed closed and laid flat on his back, panting from the effort of keeping his erection in check. Merlin, he needed this. He very quickly undid his trousers.

“POTTER!”

Reluctantly, Harry sat up and pulled the curtains open just a bit. “What do you want now?”

“Empty this so I can sleep.”

Harry took the toothpaste cap and emptied it.

“Anything else, your Majesty?” he asked upon his return.

“Yes. I need a drink of water. Do you realize I haven’t drunk anything all day?”

“Er – right. Hold on a minute.”

Harry snuck back into the bathroom and stole the cap off of Ron’s tube of toothpaste. He rinsed it out very carefully, trying to get all the minty-ness out, and then he filled it with cold water and brought it back to his bedside table.

“There. How’s that?”

“It’ll do, I guess,” Snape sniffed and very carefully lifted it to his lips. It was more like drinking from a bucket, he thought, but it was water and his throat was too dry.

“Is there anything else?” Harry asked, stressing the word ‘anything’.

“No, I don’t believe there is,” came the faint reply.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Fine then. I’ve got homework to get to.”

Tiny Snape nodded and settled himself in his little bed, pulling his blankets close and trying his damnedest to keep himself warm.

At last, Harry had the opportunity he needed for a good wank. He threw up a quick silencing charm (one of the few things he could actually do) and relieved his poor prick with a few firm strokes.

He fell back against his pillows. He hadn’t lied to Snape – he did have homework he needed to get to. But Dumbledore had given him permission to skive off classes the next day, so really he didn’t have to do the work until tomorrow night. So he could really just go ahead and sleep – but then what? He couldn’t just keep going to bed so early. His life was revolving around Snape. There had to be something he could do just for himself (besides masturbating). He might sneak out with his Firebolt and go for a quick fly around the pitch. Yes, that’s what he would do. Snape would be fine by himself for a bit.

Harry leapt out of his bed (after a quick cleaning charm, of course), grabbed his invisibility cloak and broom out of his trunk, and slipped out to the cool night air of the Quidditch Pitch. He was surprised that he had not met any professors on the way out. He was sure someone would have caught him. 

He dropped the cloak under one of the seats in the Gryffindor section and mounted his broom. He needed this. This freedom. Not caring about Snape. Not worrying about Voldemort or homework. And so he flew ‘round and ‘round the pitch until he heard a very loud, somewhat angry female voice.

“MR. POTTER!”

Professor Masterson.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

 

“Pr-Professor M-Masterson,” Harry stammered, landing his broom very quickly with a dull thud.

“You are in very serious trouble, young man,” Masterson said angrily. “Get your broom and follow me.”

“Yes, Professor.” Harry sighed. Oh, he was in for it now.

Masterson charged up toward the castle. She marched Harry inside and into her office, which just happened to adjoin professor Vermitt’s office.

“Inside, and take a seat. Put your broom on my desk.”

Professor Masterson seated herself in the high-backed leather chair behind the desk and Harry sat down in the rickety wooden one opposite her. 

“Mr. Potter, I am going to give you two nights of detention with me. You will report to my office at exactly eight o’clock, do you understand?”

She began writing out on a little slip of parchment the exact time, date, and location of his detention.

“So you don’t forget,” she sniffed, handing it to him. “And I think it’s best if you leave your broom with me until you’ve served your detention. An incentive so you don’t forget to come. You may go.”

‘Great,’ Harry thought. ‘Detention. That’s all I needed.’

Grumpily, Harry went back to his dormitory and flopped down on his bed. He’d left his invisibility cloak outside under the stands. What is someone took it? He resolved to rush out before breakfast and grab it before someone else could. Then he’d have to come back and give Snape his breakfast. Or maybe he could get Hermione to do it?

But what if she got caught in the boy’s dormitory? Could she lie her way out of it?

Snape, in the meanwhile, was feeling a bit lonely. Not that he would ever admit it, of course, but he was. He tried reading a few of the books the headmaster had given him, but his eyes hurt too much. He tried sleeping, but found that even though he was sick he wasn’t the least bit sleepy.

Had he been his normal size, he could have taken himself out to the Three Broomstick or the Hog’s Head for a drink, or he could have stayed in his chambers and had surprise visits from the headmaster or from Vermitt or Sinistra or some other random professor seeking to draw him from his shell.

Here he was stuck in a drawer with no one to talk to except POTTER and now possibly Granger, on occasion. Not the people he would have chosen to talk to under normal circumstances. But all things considering, those were his only options, and something definitely needed to be done.

“Potter?” He called in a very loud (for him) and hoarse whisper. “Potter?”

Potter’s face suddenly appeared at the edge of the drawer. “You needed something?”

“Yes, I – I’m bored.”

“Bored?” Harry gasped loudly. Snape had interrupted his thoughts because he was BORED?

“Yes, bored. As it is your job to look after me until such time as I may return to my proper size, it is also your job to make sure I am supplied with activities. In short – give me something to do.”

“It’s eleven o’clock. The others will all be coming up to bed in a few minutes. What exactly is it you wish to do?”

“Well, if you have homework, perhaps I might be of your assistance.”

Harry was sure he was dreaming. Snape was offering to help him with his homework? Snape?

“Well, yeah, sure. I guess.”

Harry scooped the professor from the drawer and set him down carefully on his bed and pulled the hangings shut, concealing the both of them.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to?” Harry asked in a whisper.

“Indeed. Another day or so and I shall be well again. My magic is working to heal me, since my potions cannot. Now, on to your homework. I believe you have an essay on the subtle differences between Aconitum carmichaelii and Aconitum napellus. There should be particular emphasis on the structure and chemical makeup of both plants as well as the differences in the affects of both when mixed with certain basic ingredients.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll just copy from the book, shall I?” He reached under his bed for his advanced potions book and flipped to the index. Neither species of aconitum were listed, though there was a listing for the general category. He flipped to the page and found only a paragraph about the history of the name of the plant.

“Great. You assigned us an essay on stuff that wasn’t even in the book,” Harry mumbled.

“Exactly. It gets extremely annoying when every essay you people write is the exact paragraph from the book, or from books in the library. I made quite certain that there were no direct books on the subject, so that you and your classmates would actually have to think about what you were putting on paper.”

“I don’t suppose Professor Masterson will be grading these?”

“She’ll have to. I certainly can’t, now can I, Potter?”

“Well, in that case I don’t have to be particularly thorough. She doesn’t seem the type to take marks off if I have one letter misplaced in the spelling.”

Snape scowled. “Just like everyone else, aren’t you? Have to find the easiest way out?”

“Look, I’m a teenager,” Harry grumbled back. “And I have a lot of other classes with just as much important homework as this. There simply aren’t enough hours in the day to do all of this work, what with eating and sleeping.”

“Yes, well, I somehow managed, Potter. And let me tell you, I didn’t take the easy way out. I legitimately did all of my essays by myself, I took down every word a professor said, and I still managed to find time to eat, sleep, and practice the Dark Arts, so don’t you tell me there isn’t enough time in the day. Maybe if you spent a little less time with those bumbling friends of yours and a little more time by yourself in the library, you wouldn't be just another mediocre student.”

“You’re one to talk. If there was plenty of time in the day, how come you never showered? Did you use all your bathing time for your Dark Arts? And besides, it wasn’t my fault you didn’t have any friends to spend time with. Maybe if you had you wouldn’t be so anal retentive.”

“Oh-ho! Potter said a big word. Do you even know what that means, or should I look it up in the dictionary for you?”

“Fuck off.”

“Yes, now that’s more like the language I’d expect a child your age to know. Tell me, Potter, did you learn that one from your Dogfather, or did it just come to you?”

“I said fuck off.”

“Yes, I heard you. You know, your father was never very god at arguing, either. Every verbal fight he had turned into a physical one because he just couldn’t get any good insults into that thick skull of his.”

“That’s not what it looked like in the Pensieve! Looked to me like it was the other way around!”

“DON’T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT THAT AGAIN!” Tiny Snape screamed.

Both he and Harry were panting by then, they were so angry. Harry grabbed Snape far too tightly around the waist and chucked him back in his drawer, where he landed with a satisfying thud.

“I’m bigger than you, now. You can’t talk to me like that,” Harry whispered angrily.

“Just like your father –” Snape groaned, trying to get to his feet. He regretted pushing the argument this far. He was now injured badly and had no way to heal himself. “Picking on someone smaller than himself.”

That last statement had really struck a nerve with Harry, and he slammed the drawer shut and climbed into bed, fuming. Just like your father. Images from the Pensieve came back. James Potter flipping Snape upside down and threatening to remove his underwear in front of the whole school. He felt sick to his stomach. He really was just like his father. Before last year, that thought would have made him feel warm and happy – now it made him feel cold and sick. He tried to think about what Sirius and Remus had told him last year, but it didn’t help. None of it helped. He really was just like his father.

No wonder Snape hated him.

 

Sorry this update took so long. The chapter ended up being slightly longer than I expected, and there was a lot of angry emotion in it, which took me a little while to convey into words. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave me reviews!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

 

Severus Snape was in agony. His side was throbbing, and he was almost certain he was bleeding internally.

“Stupid Potter!” He breathed, instantly sorry for it. The extra breathing caused his side to throb even more. He would probably die now, unnoticed, forgotten.

He struggled to his little bed and stretched himself out flat. His breathing became rapid and shallow, and sweat broke out on his forehead. He gave a tiny moan and slipped out of consciousness.

He spent the next two hours on that bed, moaning in pain. He drifted in and out, barely aware of where he was, and not caring in the least.

“Oh, just let me die,” he mouthed, over and over. The end was near. There was no help for it.

“How long has he been like this?” A stern and familiar voice asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry, he’s dying! What did you do to him?”

“Nothing, okay? He must have fallen.”

Potter was lying to save face. Why couldn’t he just be man enough to admit that he’d intentionally hurt his professor in a fit of rage?

“I can’t do anything to help him,” Hermione Granger whispered, sitting back and staring Harry directly in the face. “You’re going to have to take him to Madam Pomfrey.”

“I can’t! If Masterson catches me out again, I’m in for it! I’ve already got detention with her!”

“Very well. I’ll take him, then. There’s nothing that can be done for him here, and he’ll die without proper medical attention. Where’s your invisibility cloak?”

Harry looked down and mumbled, almost inaudibly, “I left it under the Quidditch stands.”

“That was very irresponsible of you, Harry.”

“Save the lecture, Hermione. You’re just going to have to go without it.”

“I am a prefect,” Hermione said, as though she was trying to convince herself. “No one will think twice about a prefect out patrolling.”

“That’s it. Now, take him carefully and go.”

“I’m not going alone, Harry.”

“Oh, what. You want me to go?”

Hermione smiled mischievously. “Precisely. Maybe getting caught again is just what you need to teach you not to go sneaking around after curfew!”

“Enough talking! Fine. I’ll go with you. I’ll even carry him.”

Harry very carefully lifted the entire bed, with Snape on it, and draped a handkerchief over it so that no one could see Snape lying there dying.

Very, very carefully, the two Gryffindors slipped out of the portrait hole and into the shadowy corridor. Snape gave a very soft moan with each step. No matter how careful Harry tried to be, he was still jostling the little man.

“Madam Pomfrey!” Hermione cried shrilly as she burst into the hospital wing. “Madam Pomfrey!”

The medi-witch emerged in a nightgown and fuzzy purple slippers. She looked quite angry at having been awakened in the night.

“Who is hurt now, Miss Granger?”

“It’s Professor Snape,” Harry supplied, uncovering the little bed.

“What kind of joke is this? Explain yourselves!”

Hermione launched into a very quick account of the potions accident and of how Dumbledore had entrusted Harry with Professor Snape until he could get back to his normal size.

“It was supposed to be a complete secret, only he’s gotten hurt, now, and he needs medical attention,” Hermione finished, gazing down at Snape.

Poppy Pomfrey bent down so she was nose to nose with the doll bed (or would have been if beds had noses).

“Severus?” she whispered, touching him with the tip of her finger.

“He’s hurt very badly indeed,” Poppy said, pulling out her wand to do a magical scan. “How did this happen?”

“I –” Harry began, about to tell her about his argument with Snape. He took a deep breath and changed his mind. “I don’t know. I think I might have dropped him a little too hard into his drawer.”

Pomfrey looked sternly at him. “Are you sure that’s the whole story, Mr. Potter?”

For the very first time, Harry wondered whether Madam Pomfrey was a Legilimens. It would come in handy when boys lied about who caused fights or how cat ears and a tail magically sprouted on student’s faces.

“I – no. Snape and I were arguing, and I – sorta threw him into the drawer.”

Hermione looked very shocked. Harry had almost killed a teacher!

“Miss Granger, perhaps you would be kind enough to fetch Professor Dumbledore. I think Severus needs to be relocated.”

“No, please! I didn’t really mean to hurt him! I was just mad! Please! It won’t happen again.”

“Nevertheless, the headmaster needs to know what has happened. He may still wish to have Severus placed elsewhere.”

Harry sank down into a chair. He really regretted hurting Snape. Didn’t he? If he hadn’t meant it in the first place, then why did he do it? Was his anger really that out of control?

The headmaster came, and looked Severus over as Madam Pomfrey tried very hard to heal his tiny wound.

“Perhaps I made the wrong choice,” Dumbledore said at last, very heavily. “I am sorry, Harry, to have burdened you with something you could not handle. I thought that perhaps having to care for Professor Snape would make you stop hating him. It seems I was wrong. I will look after Severus until the antidote is made.”

Harry hung his head. Snape would certainly never forgive him now.

“I’m so sorry, Professor. I – I let you down.”

“Yes, you did, Harry. But the fault is mine. I assumed you could get over your prejudices and become friends.”

“Oh, like Sirius and Snape got over their prejudices?” Harry snapped, angry tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes.

“Harry . . .”

“NO! You made that mistake once already, and look where it got us! Sirius is gone, thanks to you and Snape. I can’t forgive him for that.”

“And he can’t forgive you for looking like your father! Harry, please. Severus had nothing to do with Sirius’ demise . . .”

“You talk about it like it’s just some unimportant thing! Like it’s not a person you’re talking about! I HATE YOU! I HATE HIM! I’M GLAD I HURT HIM! HE DESERVES IT! HE . . .” Harry trailed off, unable to continue owing to the sobs wracking his body. He placed his face in his hands and wept. He wept for Sirius, and for all of the pent up anger he’d dealt with over the last year. He wept for hurting Snape and for hating him, and everything he’d ever done to him. He didn’t want t cry, but he was crying, damn it, and now that he’d started he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t stop . . .


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

 

Severus awoke to the sound of sobs, and they weren’t his. Very carefully, he sat up and looked about him. He was in the infirmary, that much he knew. That ceiling was unmistakable, even when you were three inches tall.

Harry was sitting on one of the beds nearby, and Dumbledore sat next to him. It was Harry who was sobbing.

“What happened to him?” Severus asked nobody, watching Harry’s scrunched up face get redder and redder.

“Harry, Harry,” the headmaster whispered soothingly. “You mustn’t cry like this.”

“Let him cry, Albus,” Poppy said calmly. “He needs to expel those emotions.”

Severus continued to watch for a bit, until watching Harry cry became, well, almost unbearable. He had this overwhelming desire to grab Harry in a hug, which was not only out of his character, but extremely frightening. Hugs and Severus Snape just did not mix.

“Shut him up, will you?” he snapped, unwilling to listen any longer.

Popper turned back to Severus.

“How are you feeling, Professor? Better?”

“Much,” He said with a tiny, grateful smile. “But I’d be even better if that brat would stop all the wailing.”

By degrees, Harry’s sobs died until he was only sniffling. He wanted to get out of there – away from those piercing eyes and calculating looks. He stood to leave.

“Put him anywhere you want,” Harry waved his hand in the direction of Snape. “I don’t care. Just don’t bother me with him anymore. I hate him.”

And he left. Snape watched him go with a funny kind of sinking feeling in his gut. Why he felt like he was going to miss Harry Potter was beyond him – he’d only been with the brat a few days.

“That settles it, then, Severus,” the headmaster sighed. “I shall look after you until the antidote comes in. Come on,” Albus Dumbledore laid his hand out flat next to Severus and let him climb on. Severus grabbed at the old, wrinkled thumb for support as the headmaster too left the hospital wing.

 

Everything went back into a normal routine for Harry. He showered in the mornings, ate breakfast in the Great Hall, and went to classes. Always, though, at the back of his mind, he wondered how Snape was getting on.

It was two weeks later, and Harry was trying to finish up his potions essay on Wolfsbane. He was in the library, alone, as Ron and Hermione had gone off somewhere to snog or shag or something – he really couldn’t keep up with all the particulars of their relationship. Harry was very surprised when the headmaster appeared just behind him and sat down at the table with him.

“Harry, I have a favor to ask you,” Dumbledore said gravely.

“Sure. What it is?”

“I must go to London for a conference with the Minister – and I can’t take Severus with me. He has requested that I leave him with you. Something about wishing to apologize for provoking you.”

Harry was very surprised, but he quickly nodded yes and the tiny professor was pulled from a pocket on Dumbledore’s outer robe.

“Do be more careful with him this time, Harry.”

Harry nodded again and placed his chin on the table to that he was face to face with Snape.

Snape waited until the headmaster had quite gone before he spoke. “I apologize, Potter. Some of my statements were uncalled for that evening.”

“Mine were too,” Harry breathed, hardly able to believe what he was saying. “I’m sorry.”

“I – I did think that perhaps since the headmaster wished for us to – to try to get along . . .” here he let his words fade out as though they were far too difficult to actually say.

Harry nodded to show that he’d understood. “You don’t have to say any more, professor. I get it.”

Snape sneered at him. “Well, that was quick. I expected you to take much longer than that.”

“I’m not completely stupid,” Harry whispered back. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he detected the tiniest of twinkles in the pinprick black eyes before him.

“What is it you’re working on?” Snape asked, striding over the parchment and reading the words Harry had written.

“You’re still working on this essay?”

“I didn’t start it until yesterday,” Harry admitted, flipping the pages of one of the books he had nearby.

“How typical,” Snape grumbled. He reread one of Harry’s paragraphs. “You’ve got them all mixed up here,” he said, gesturing to the offending paragraph.

“Really? What’s wrong?”

“The whole thing. You’ve got the properties of Aconitum carmichaelii and Aconitum napellus flip-flopped.”

“Oh? Then how should it be?”

They worked together for the next hour and a half, and then Harry laid down his quill, finished.

“That’s the best essay I’ve ever written!” Harry said with a grin. “Thanks, professor. Maybe I’ll keep you small and stick you in my pocket when I have to take exams and have you whisper the answers to the questions to me."

Snape gave a tiny smirk and said, “I don’t think so, Potter. With the proper training you’ll be able to answer the questions on your own. And that’s just what I intend to give you.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

 

WARNING: This chapter has some pretty graphic stuff between a young man not yet of age and a professor who is only three inches tall. If this squicks anyone in any way, then please don’t continue reading. For those of you (like me) who like this kind of sick stuff, then keep reading.

 

If anyone had told Harry that he and Professor Snape would get along, he would have laughed at them. Now, though, he and Snape had become friends, of a sort. They settled into a nice routine for the next few days, during which Harry let Snape help him with his homework.

For once, Harry’s marks were just as good as Hermione’s. Ron was slightly miffed. Actually, all the boys were. The girls had still not come around, and they were all suffering from cases of severe sexual frustration. The girls, of course, were happy and carefree and acted as though nothing was different.

“You’ve been copying Hermione’s notes!” Ron yelled one evening in the dormitory. “It’s not fair! She won’t let me copy them!”

“No, Ron. I’ve been taking my own notes. You should try it sometime.”

“Harry, are you feeling all right? Taking your own notes? What’s gotten into you?”

Harry shrugged. “Nothing. I just found that I liked getting good marks, is all.”

Ron stared at Harry as though he were a mad blast-ended skrewt and not his best friend.

“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on that’s just – fine,” he ended when he failed to think of another word to say.

As Ron turned to storm out of the dormitory, he ran into Hermione, who was on her way in.

“Oops. Sorry, Ronald,” Hermione said grinning, and kept walking toward Harry.

Ron pointed at Harry accusingly. “You’ve been seeing my girlfriend, haven’t you!”

“What? No! Ron, let me explain.”

“I don’t need to hear your explanation! I thought we were friends, Harry, but this – this is just too much!”

The door slammed hard enough to make dust fall from the ceiling to get hung on the red velvet hangings of the Gryffindor beds.

“What got into him?” Hermione asked in a falsely sweet voice.

“You know very well what got into him, Miss Granger,” came Snape’s irritated voice. 

Hermione lifted him from the drawer and placed him on Harry’s knee, where it was easier to talk to him. 

“It’s the same thing that’s gotten into all the boys. I hear them at night. They each wait until they think everyone else is asleep and them they have full go. They don’t even bother to put up any silencing charms. I can hear every moan, all the heavy breathing. It’s disgusting, I tell you.”

“Yeah, I hear it too,” Harry said, blushing. “Only sometimes I‘m doing it too, so I don’t complain.”

“Your friend Mr. Weasley seems to be having the most trouble. Sometimes I hear him two or three times a night.”

Hermione, to her credit, did not blush upon hearing about her ex-boyfriend’s nocturnal habits. She did grin slightly as she said, “Well, it serves them all right for making fun of someone for being overweight. Especially someone who cannot help it.”

“Be that as it may, Miss Granger, it does make it difficult to sleep around here.”

“I’ll talk to the other girls and see if they think two weeks is enough punishment.”

“If you want my advice,” here Snape sneered his characteristic sneer, “You will put a simple hex on them which makes them unable to reach orgasm. It will last until the counter-curse is applied, and it can be particularly painful, if I remember correctly.”

“You had it done to you?”

Snape coughed. “Yes. By those Marauders. Don’t worry. They learned their lesson. I did it right back to them and then ran off to the library to research the counter-curse. Coupled with a lust hex, it can be pretty powerful. It was used as a form of torture during Grindlewold’s reign as Dark Lord.”

“It’s not dark magic,” Hermione was thoughtful. “And I know the spells and their counter-curses. Thank you, Professor. It’s a great idea.”

“Just be careful, Hermione, and don’t let anyone hit me when they’re casting it,” Harry blushed and looked at his shoes. “I already have enough trouble in that department, and I didn’t have a girlfriend in the first place.”

Hermione skipped off to tell the other girls her plan. Harry continued to sit on the bed, staring down at his shoes. All that talk about lust and masturbation had made him extremely hard, only now wasn’t a good time because Snape was right there, sitting on his knee.

Severus looked up at Harry and couldn’t quite figure out why he was still blushing. Then he followed Harry’s gaze downward and saw . . . Oh shit! The boy was hard! And now so was the professor.

Being small, he hadn’t been able to have any kind of companionship in the sexual sense, and he was getting a little tired of his own hand. It was familiar and everything, but that was exactly what was wrong. It was too familiar. There wasn’t any way to spice things up.

“Er – Potter?” Snape asked tentatively. “I see you are having a slight difficulty.”

“Yeah. So what?”

Snape coughed. “Er – well – I . . . it just so happens I am . . . suffering from a similar predicament.”

Harry gulped. Was Snape about to ask him to help with his problem?

“I know we are not anywhere near the same size, but I think that if we are careful we might – pleasure each other. That is if you are not averse to the idea.”

Harry gulped again, and very carefully lifted Snape from his knee. He rolled over on his side and pulled the curtains closed, and then erected a silencing charm and a locking charm so that no one could just come in and pull back the curtains.

“How do you want to do this, Professor?”

“Strip, Potter,” Severus said huskily, already doing that himself.

Harry quickly set Snape down on his pillow and obeyed, trying not to jostle the bed too much.

“There, stripped. Now what?”

Snape laid himself flat down on his pillow and gripped his swollen prick in his right hand.

“Lick me, Potter. But be very gentle.”

Harry bowed his head over the tiny naked form. He felt so dirty doing this, but it was such a thrill at the same time that he could ignore his conscience. 

“Oh, yes,” Snape moaned as the very tip of Harry’s huge tongue came down and licked his stomach. It felt very good, and after the first two licks he let go of his prick and let Harry’s tongue swipe over that, too. It felt incredible. He pushed up into it, wishing he was big enough to be properly sucked off. Maybe he would try to continue this relationship once he returned to his normal size – with Harry’s permission, of course.

“Oh, Harry, don’t stop!”

But Harry did stop.

“You called me Harry!” he exclaimed, looking down at the saliva-coated professor. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“There has to be a first time for everything, now LICK!” Snape said quickly, desperately. This felt so good. Just a few more of those licks and he would be there.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh! Harder, Harry. HARDER!”

Harry complied, pressing his tongue down harder into Severus’ groin. He could feel that tiny prick against his tongue, could feel the tiny hairy balls below it. He pretended that he could also feel each pulse of blood through that member, like he could feel the throbs of his own. This was good- but it certainly would be much better if they were both the same size.

Harry swirled the tip of his tongue around and around Snape’s cock, pressing slightly harder than he had done before. Beneath his tongue, Snape was writing in pleasure. Nothing had ever felt this good before. That tongue could touch everywhere at once. It was glorious.

“OH!” Snape groaned once more before Harry’s tongue was catching pulse after tiny pulse of semen. There was hardly enough, in Harry’s opinion. Just enough to get the tiniest of tangy tastes in his mouth. He finished tonguing Severus and then sat up a little to look at him.

Snape was flushed red and panting. His hair stuck to his face with sweat as well as grease, and he looked, overall, to be completely sated.

“Now your turn, Potter. Lie flat on your back.”

Harry did, and let Snape walk down the length of his body. When he stood before the giant cock, Snape drew himself up to an impressive height, and wrapped his arms and legs around it like it was a fat fire-pole. He thrust himself up and down a little, well aware that it wasn’t doing much for Harry. He climbed to the very top and ran one hand around the glistening tip. Harry certainly felt that. He moaned, and Snape did it again, pressing down harder this time. He used his tiny mouth, licking and sucking on the expanse of flesh before him, but he was well aware that it just wasn’t enough to bring Potter off. One of the setbacks of being three inches tall.

Harry reached down and began to stroke himself. Snape decided to focus on something else – the huge and swollen balls. He slid down Harry’s thigh and laid himself out flat on Harry’s scrotum. Yes, Harry had felt that because his whole body gave a little jerk at the sensation. Snape then did everything in his power to make Harry feel good. He licked, he sucked, he scratched lightly at the scattering of fine hairs. He even tugged at a few hairs to change the sensation. It still wasn’t enough.

Severus found that by standing on the bed just between Harry’s legs, he could touch the perineum. By stretching his arms over his head he could put just the right amount of pressure on that spot, and by pressing and the letting off, pressing and letting off, he caused Harry enough extra stimulation to come- spurting all over the bed. Snape, from his position beneath Harry’s balls, was protected from flying semen.

“Wow,” Harry breathed, struggling to sit up. “That was intense.”

Severus smiled and stepped carefully out. “Perhaps when I return to my normal size we might – try that again?”

“Yeah,” Harry panted. “Only – right now I’ve got to clean all this up. Er – I think you might need a bath, Professor.”

“Yes. Just don’t leave me in the water too long this time!”

They both chuckled. Who would have thought Harry and Severus could laugh together about something?


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 17

 

Dumbledore returned sometime that night, and early the next morning he sent a portrait with a message up to Gryffindor tower to fetch Harry.

“I see you two managed to get along,” Dumbledore said, smiling.

Harry and Severus exchanged a quick glance and then both of them blushed, thinking about last night’s activities.

“Er – yeah. We’ve gotten on better.”

“Very good. Very good. I’ve received a letter from a Marston Rodes, in America. Somehow he received a sample of the shrinking solution.”

“And does he know the antidote?” Snape asked quickly.

“Yes, but he does not have the ingredients. A few of them are quite rare, and can only be found here, in the Hogwarts Greenhouses. We’ve lucky. It only takes a couple of days to make.”

“But who’s going to brew it?” Harry sounded confused.

The door to Dumbledore’s chamber creaked open and Alan Masterson poked her head in.

“You wanted to see me, Headmaster?”

“Ah, yes. Professor Masterson. Come in, come in. I believe you know Mr. Potter? Yes. But I don’t think you’ve met our dear Potions Master, Severus Snape.”

Harry stepped aside and Dumbledore gestured to the desk top. Alana took a step forward, looking intently at the tiny figure standing there.

“Headmaster? Is that?”

“Severus Snape.”

Professor Masterson came very close and bent down so her chubby chin came to rest on the desk’s edge.

“Oh my!” she said, her eyes wide. “Is he? Is he real?”

“Yep,” said Harry with a wide grin.

“Go ahead and touch me if you don’t believe it.” Snape folded his arms across his chest.

“And – and the potion you said you needed. It’s for him, isn’t it?”

“My, you are very fast, Professor Masterson. Yes, it’s for Severus. I have the instructions here. It doesn’t look too difficult. Our American friend says it should only take a couple of days to prepare.”

“I’m glad you think I’m worthy of brewing this, Headmaster.” Alana took the parchment instruction sheet from Dumbledore. “But I’ve never done anything like this before. How do you know I can do it?”

“If I may, Headmaster?” Severus interrupted, striding to the very edge of the desk. “Professor Masterson, I’ve seen your grading on Mr. Potter’s papers. You are more than adequate in the field of potions, and probably the most talented witch in that field that I’ve ever encountered. And that’s just going on your comments in the margins of his papers. It sounds precisely like what I would write. Professor, this is quite an honor I’m doing you. I never compliment anyone, let alone in Potions. You are the most qualified person in the immediate vicinity. Have you not gotten your Mastery yet?” 

Alana blushed. “Yes – I’m working on it now. That is to say I was working on it until I got the letter from Hogwarts.”

Snape studied her carefully. “Who is your Mentor?”

“Carl Sturgis. I was studying under him at Oxford.”

“Sturgis is at Oxford now? Teaching. Well, I guess he didn’t turn out as hopelessly as I anticipated. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.”

“Of course – I had to leave my apprenticeship to begin teaching. I don’t think he’ll take me back. His mentorship is very exclusive.”

“Professor Masterson, I assure you that if you can return me to my normal size, I will make Sturgis accept you back. If he still refuses I am always looking for competent students to take into my own mentorship program, if you so choose.”

Alana beamed. “Thank you, Professor! I’ll – I’ll get right to work on this!”

She gave a half bow half curtsey to everyone, and then tore out the door to get started.

“Severus, you should be back to your old self by this weekend. Your predicament is almost over!”

“Not quite yet it’s not,” Snape gasped.

As Dumbledore had been speaking, Harry had been watching Snape. The tiny man had suddenly grabbed hold of his left arm and sunk to his knees, gritting his teeth against the burning pain coming from the Dark Mark.

“Is it a summons?” Harry asked, bending down closer to Snape.

Severus ground out a yes, and then doubled over, still clutching his arm.

“Professor! You have to do something!” Harry cried, straightening back up.

Dumbledore leaned down.

“Severus, you cannot answer this summons.”

“I must – Head – master,” Severus gasped. “If I don’t – he’ll – know – I’m disloyal. He’ll know – and I won’t be – useful – anymore.”

“Severus, you’ll be even less useful to the cause dead. You cannot go.”

“Is there something we can give him for the pain?” Harry asked.

“No. He’ll overdose. Here, take him, Harry. Hold him gently, don’t let him hurt himself. I’ll go see if I can catch Alana. Maybe she can help.”

Harry scooped up the writhing Snape and held him in the palm of his left hand. He gently stroked up and down the side of Snape’s body with his right index finger, trying to sooth him and calm him down.

“Just – try to relax, Professor,” Harry whispered. “Please, is there anything I can do?”

Snape made no reply. He was blinded by the pain. It hurt worse than ever, and that was saying something. He vaguely registered that Harry was talking to him, but he couldn’t understand what the boy was saying.

“Come on, Severus,” Harry murmured. “Just hang on. We’ll get you through this. Just hold on.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

 

“He’s still asleep,” said a familiar voice.

“Good. He will not survive another summoning. Let us hope Voldemort does not expect him to actually show.”

“He looks so – so – hurt,” the first voice whispered.

“Come away, Harry. Perhaps you should go and get some rest.”

Severus Snape opened his tiny eyes. It occurred to him that he was doing a lot of this passing out and waking up stuff. The black pinpricks traveled about. Albus Dumbledore had a wrinkled old hand on each of Harry’s shoulders and was gently steering him out of Snape’s range of vision. Severus groaned.

“Professor?” Harry gasped, breaking free of Dumbledore’s grasp and bending low over the desk where Severus lay. “Professor, are you all right?”

“No.” Severus groaned again. His whole body felt as though there were pins and needles stuck deep inside it. Every movement: any slight jerk of a finger or the involuntary twitch of a toe caused a red-hot fire to shoot up his spine. What happened? he wondered.

“Severus, do you remember the summons?” Albus asked, bending over the prostrate professor so that the end of his long, silvery beard rested on the table.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Severus answered quietly. “Then all this pain –”

“After effects of the summons. I’m sorry you’re in pain, my boy, but we’ve got the two best potions people in Britain working on bringing you back to normal size.”

“Two best?” Severus asked, confused. Last thing he remembered was Alana Masterson being given the project.

“Ah – yes. I contacted Horace Slughorn. He’s come to assist Miss Masterson.”

“She doesn’t need assistance.”

“No, but Horace heard about he situation and I couldn’t keep him away. Unfortunately someone I sent the potion sample to was very verbal about the whole thing.”

“The students put two and two together,” Harry said quietly. “Or at least some of them did. They know about the whole incident.”

“And if the students know, you can bet Voldemort knows,” Albus finished.

Severus grit his teeth at the mention of his master’s name. “Don’t say that name, please, Headmaster.”

“Severus, fear of a name makes the thing itself more terrifying. The name is nothing to fear.”

“Want to bet?” Harry thought he heard Snape mutter.

Apparently, Albus didn’t hear it, for he stepped over to Fawkes’ perch and stroked the glistening scarlet plumage. 

“Severus, you’ve been out cold for two whole days. Alana says the potion is going just fine and that you’ll be back to your normal old self by dinner time tomorrow. I’ll bet you’re excited by that.”

“Yes,” Severus thought. “I’m very excited.” 

He replayed the events of that night a few days ago, where he vowed to find out if Harry was willing to take the ‘relationship’ further. His cock began to swell as he thought about it, the movement sending the sparks of pain up his spine again.

Albus, fortunately, was not looking in his direction, but Harry was staring straight at him and saw the movement at the front of Snape’s robes. He blushed. He, too, was replaying the events of that night in his mind.

“Can I take Snape back to the dormitory, Professor Dumbledore?” Harry asked sheepishly. “He can get some sleep in his own little bed.”

Albus considered this for a few minutes. “Yes, Harry. There’s nothing else I can do for him.”

 

“There’s something I need to ask you,” Harry whispered as he pulled Snape from his pocket. “That night – was it just a random thing or – or are you willing to do it again once you’re – you know – back to your normal size?”

“Willing?” Snape asked incredulously. “Of course I’m willing. The question I had was whether you willing?”

“Er – yeah. I just wondered. I mean, I’m not 17 yet. I think that’s against the law.”

Severus cleared his throat. “Yes, well . . . There are some who would prefer us to wait; however, as long as no one discovered us, we would be free to do whatever we wished.”

He grinned. Slytherin to the end.

“Okay. Deal, then. We can keep this a secret while I’m still 16. But if we’re still – you know – when I turn 17, then we get to tell everyone.”

Potter, I hardly think I’ll be involved with you until you’re 17, but rest assured that if I am I will announce it during the feast on September first. Agreed?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t be quite that . . . that . . . I don’t know. And erm – if you don’t mind my asking, why wouldn’t we still be together? Is there any reason you – oh, never mind. I’m not making much sense.”

“Potter, I –”

“It’s Harry, remember?”

Severus sighed deeply. “Harry. I’m not – in love – with you. I don’t love. It’s not my . . . I’m interested in you, and this past week or so has shown that I can be around you and not murder you. I’m just not –”

“It’s okay,” Harry cut him off quickly. He realized that the stoic professor had just broken down and admitted something very personal. “I’d be willing to work through whatever issues you have.”

Severus tried to force out the words, “Thank you,” but they just wouldn’t come. Instead he leaned forward and asked, “Potter, would you mind doing that – thing – again, with your tongue?”

Harry swallowed, feeling himself grow hot at the suggestion. “Sure. If you’d try to help m-me.”

“Me first. I’ll just strip, shall I?”

Severus very slowly unbuttoned his robes. Seeing Harry’s obvious discomfort, he decided to drag out the situation as long as possible. 

Harry shifted on the bed, watching as Snape performed the striptease. This was so wrong. So wrong. But he was so hard.

“And now you,” Severus said, smirking slightly. 

Harry was too aroused to undress slowly. He shed his clothes so fast Severus was sure he’d used magic. He arched his eyebrow, and Harry blushed.

“I found that one in this magazine the twins gave me. It wasn’t hard to learn.”

“It’s more the fact that the one thing you can actually do is to remove your clothing. That will certainly come in handy when you’re trying to do in the Dark Lord.”

“Can we keep Voldemort out of the bedroom? I don't really want his ugly face popping up while I'm coming, that’s all.”

“Can you please refrain from using that name.”

“Why does it scare you so much?”

Hmm, let’s think about that one, shall we?” Severus sneered. “I’ve only been at his beck and call all my life. If he orders me to kill someone, I have to do it. If he orders me to make a potion, I have to do it. If he finds out I’m a spy, he’ll torture me like I’ve tortured people, and then he’ll leave me to a slow, painful death. Yes, let’s think, shall we? Why does his name frighten me?”

Harry couldn’t say anything. A tiny naked Snape had just yelled at him. Suddenly he wasn’t so aroused anymore, and neither was Snape, he realized.

“Maybe we should just go to sleep,” Harry suggested quietly.

“Yes, maybe,” Severus growled, pulling his underwear back on. “Goodnight, Potter.”

Harry lay on his bed, feeling very guilty about provoking that outburst. He knew Snape had a lot of emotional shit going on what with being a spy and everything. Why did he always have to fuck things up?

“Goodnight, Severus,” He whispered ever so quietly.

 

I am sooooo sorry for not updating this. There are only a few more chapters, so please bear with me. I'm sure some of you thought I'd never update again! it will be a while before I get the next chapter up, but rest asured that it will not be as long as this post took!

\----- SRFORESTS


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

 

“You’re sure you want this?” Albus asked Severus quietly as soon as Harry deposited him on the desk and exited the office.

The tiny potions master had once again requested a change of living arrangements.

“I simply cannot deal with Potter any longer. He’s rude and stupid, and I shouldn’t be forced to endure him for any length of time.”

Albus Dumbledore sighed and placed his head in his dry, wrinkled hands. 

“Very well, Severus. You will remain with me for the rest of the afternoon. The antidote will be ready by this evening, and then you can return to your chambers. I expect there will be quite a bit of straightening up to do.”

Snape nodded curtly.

“And I had been so sure you were getting along,” Dumbledore sighed again. “Harry seemed to even be enjoying looking after you. If you don’t mind my asking, was there something that happened last night?”

“Oh, yes, something happened, all right. The brat made light of the fact that the Dark Lord has so much control over my fate. Is it not true that at any moment I could be found as a traitor and killed?”

“Severus, you know it’s not as bad as all that!”

“Oh, it isn’t, is it? Well, I suppose my life just isn’t worth anything to anybody. Might as well turn myself over to him right now! At least then he might take pity on me and kill me quickly.” Severus simply oozed sarcasm, and that could only mean one thing: he was insecure. Severus Snape had a very distinct way of trying to hide his insecurities and fears, and that was through his biting remarks and cruel sarcasm. 

“Severus, of course you are worth something. Your information has been invaluable to the success of the Order of the Phoenix. Without you, our most trusted spy, we might as well be blind. Severus, my boy, don’t think like that.” 

“So that’s all I’m good for? Once the war is over, what happens to me then? I’m to be cast aside like . . . like . . ."

“Severus, no one is going to cast you aside. Now, will you please stop talking nonsense and be reasonable. You’ll still have your teaching position. You will still be valuable to the potions world at large.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “You don’t get it, old man. You really do not get it. I don’t want to spend the entire rest of my life teaching snot-nosed brats how to brew basic potions. That’s not a life.”

Albus leaned back carefully, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “So it’s a life you want. A mate, a family. Someone to love you, I expect.”

Snape snarled back, “No. I’m perfectly content living alone. That’s not what I meant. I –”

“It’s perfectly understandable. Severus, I do not know where you get this silly idea that no one could ever love you, but you need to get it out of your head. If you would open up once in a while, it would be very possible for someone to love you. Why for a time I thought even Harry . . .”

“Even Harry what?”

“Oh, no. It was nothing. Or it is nothing now, anyway, since you two obviously don’t get on as well as I’d hoped.”

Severus swallowed hard. “Are you telling me you set all of this up?”

“What? No! No, no, my boy. I merely have been trying to get you to be more amiable to young Harry. After all, you were in the same year as his parents. I thought . . . but it doesn’t matter. Not now. I’d so hoped you could open up to him. Alas.”

“Wait. Are you saying it’s my fault Potter despises me?”

“No. I’m merely saying you might have tried harder. You are the adult, Severus. Harry I expect to act like a child, but you? I thought you were more mature than that.”

Severus scowled and slumped his little shoulders. Only Albus Dumbledore could make him feel so small and immature. 

Outside Dumbledore’s office, Harry pulled the string end of one of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears out of his ear. Really, Dumbledore needed stronger Anti-Eavesdropping Charms on his door.

So Snape was afraid that no one could ever love him. Well, that made sense with what he’d told Harry last night. Who would have known that the stern potions master was so insecure?

 

“Why don’t you sit on the edge of the desk, Professor? Then you’ll be in a comfortable position when you regrow.”

Severus shivered, but did as he was asked, striding to the edge of the desk and sitting down carefully with his legs dangling over. He’d had to remove his robes, and was trying very discretely to keep himself covered. It was more than a bit frightening, sitting up somewhere so high, but he knew that any minute now that distance would be nothing at all.

“Okay, then. Just hold still.”

Alana bent and drew some of the potion out of her flask with an eyedropper. Just one drop of this on the man’s head and he’d be back to normal.

The drop of warm potion landed with a splop on Severus’ greasy hair. Masterson and Dumbledore leaned in slightly, watching Severus expectantly.

The feeling of growing was somewhat disconcerting. His bones ached as they expanded. Little pricks of pain told him his skin was stretching and expanding. On the inside, organs resized themselves with small explosions. And his cock and balls were tingling pleasantly as they swelled.

The whole process lasted three minutes and at last, a very tall, very naked Severus Snape sat on the edge of the Headmaster’s desk, his wide hands in his lap protecting his genitals.

“Here you are, Severus,” the Headmaster said, handing the potions master a plum and fuchsia tie-dyed cotton bathrobe. 

He slid it on quickly and tied it at the waist, scowling as Dumbledore’s infernal twinkle started up again. Alana Masterson blushed and smiled at him.

“Er – thank you, Miss Masterson. I owe you.”

“It was nothing. Just put in a word for me with James Sturgis and I’ll call it even.”

“As much as I’d love to stay and chat,” Severus coughed, “I do have a life to get back to.”

“Of course. I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning, Severus?” Albus asked cheerfully. “I know the students have been missing you.

‘Damn that twinkle!’ Severus thought. He nodded and then swept from the room, still wearing the hideous robe.

 

Severus meant to go to the dungeons. He really did! But his feet carried him to just outside Gryffindor Tower, instead. He stopped outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Professor Snape?” The portrait inquired. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I wonder if you might send Harry Potter out. I’d like to have a word with him.”

The portrait raised her eyebrows, but disappeared from her frame.

Severus felt he knot in his stomach tighten. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. What if Potter wouldn’t accept his apology? There were several what-ifs, and Severus wasn’t sure he was ready to face Harry yet. He’d actually made up his mind to simply turn and go down to the dungeons like he’d intended, but at precisely that moment the portrait hole swung open and Harry Potter stepped out.

“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?”


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?” Harry repeated, staring at Snape out of blank emerald eyes.

“Yes, I . . . I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Harry’s voice was full of skepticism. “Why would you apologize to me? You hate me.”

Severus wanted to reply that no, he didn’t hate the boy. His mind formed the words but his tongue chocked on them.

“I realize that. But even though what I said last night was mostly true, I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you. I realize you were merely joking, and I apologize.

For some reason “I apologize” came out much easier that “I’m sorry.” Snape thought perhaps it was the formality of the words.

“Yeah, well, apology accepted. Now, can I please go back in? I was in the middle of a game of chess with Ron.”

“Yes, by all means. Go.” Snape snapped.

As Harry turned to return to his common room, Severus felt a jolt of sharp, twisting pain in his stomach. It wasn’t physical, he decided, so it must be some sort of emotional pain. Was he really that upset that Harry didn’t want anything to do with him?

“Potter –”

“Now what?” Harry turned, scowling. Really, if Snape was just going to act like that evening had never happened . . . that Harry hadn’t licked him like that and that he hadn’t helped Harry orgasm . . . he could just march right down to the dungeons and fuck himself. 

That was when Harry notices the tie on the ugly bathrobe Snape wore was slipping loose, and that any quick movement would cause it to glide right open. Harry sincerely hoped Snape wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He hadn’t had a good wank since yesterday morning, which in teenage time felt like a month and a half. He could almost feel the buildup in his balls.

“Potter – about what happened the other night.”

“Yes?” Harry stepped closer, licking his lips to moisten them. They’d gone quite dry.

“I asked you last night if you’d like to continue.”

One move and that robe would come open! Harry took another step forward. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if your decision was still the same.”

“Oh, yes, Professor. It most certainly is.” 

With that Harry took one last step and brushed the robe completely open, revealing Snape’s now normal-sized genitals.

Snape had no time to react before he found himself shoved roughly against the wall, Harry’s clothed form creating quite a pleasant barrier between him and freedom. 

Not knowing exactly what to do, Harry began doing the one thing he did know – licking every inch of Snape’s sallow skin. There was quite a lot more to lick now, and he got right to it. Severus moaned loudly. Both the feel of that small, warm tongue on his skin and the sight of Harry’s shaggy head as he began his journey downwards were having a strong reaction in his nether regions. Harry stopped and looked up.

“Is this okay?”

“That’s – it’s absolutely wonderful, Potter,” Severus groaned. He wanted that tongue to stop talking and start licking again.

“It’s Harry.”

“I know! I know! Harry. Now lick.”

“Impatient, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who pinned me here! Now lick! Or I’ll give you detention.”

“Wow! You really are impatient.”

“HARRY!”

“Okay. Okay. But I think we should move somewhere less visible. Someone might come through the portrait hole any minute.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than the Fat Lady’s portrait swung on its hinges and the youngest male Weasley stepped out.

“Harry what –” was all Ron said before all the blood drained from his freckled face and he landed with a thump on the stone floor.

“See what I mean? We’d better get out of here. He’ll wake up eventually.”

Severus raised an eyebrow as he retied the bathrobe securely about his waist, but he did not comment on Harry’s loyalty to his friends.

“Follow me. I know the perfect place.” Harry dragged Severus along the corridor and down some stairs. He stopped at a blank stretch of wall and began pacing back and forth, muttering to himself.

“Harry, what?”

A large, heavy wooden door appeared in the wall and Harry grasped the handle and turned it. Inside was a most remarkable room. There was soft grey carpet on the stone floor and an enormous four-poster bed in the middle of the space. It was the only thing in the room.

“The Room of Requirement,” Harry said sheepishly. “Whatever you want, you just think about and the room will give it to you.”

Severus looked about, thinking. He could have his way with Harry and no one would ever know. He quickly erected silencing charms and complicated locking charms. Striding toward the bed, Severus undid the knot on the robe and let it fall open. He lay down on his back and spread his legs slightly, giving Harry a good view of the erect cock and swollen testicles.

Harry rushed forward, removing his own clothing with his spell and climbing up to straddle Severus’ waist. His own hard cock jumped at the skin to skin contact. This was so much better now that they were both the proper size! Harry leaned over Severus and started licking the broad chest before him. He concentrated on the nipples, knowing his own were sensitive. Before these little nubs had been so small he couldn’t taste them properly. He licked and licked and nibbled with just his lips until he felt Snape writhing beneath him, trying to thrust his hips upward. Harry’s weight kept him still.

With a grunt, Severus wrenched Harry off of him and rolled them over so he was lying flat on Harry with his legs spread to allow for more contact. The tips of their leaking cocks touched, sending them into a frenzy. They moved together, grinding pulsating members against one another. Nothing could stop the wild thrusting. They were both so close. So very close.

A near bloodcurdling scream erupted from Harry’s mouth as he released his semen over Snape’s cock. Snape sped up, using the warm come as lubricant. He kept thrusting and kept thrusting. Dammit! His Mark had begun to burn. But he kept thrusting shallowly.

“Al – most- there!” Severus gasped, collapsing onto Harry, his hips still rocking spasmodically for a few moments until his orgasm had passed. 

The Dark Mark was burning painfully now. This was a true summons. If he didn’t answer it, the Dark Lord would kill him. He climbed quickly out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, somewhat hurt. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of Snape leaving as soon as it was over.

“It’s the Dark Lord. I’m being summoned.”

“But –”

“I’ll be fine. Go back to your dormitory.”

Harry nodded, still worried. He watched Snape do up the bathrobe again and then stalk quickly out of the room.

 

Severus hissed as he stepped into the scalding water of his shower. He couldn’t believe the Dark Lord accepted the story about being in a coma. Surely he had some spy somewhere who had heard about the antidote Dumbledore needed? The students knew, after all, so why hadn’t that gotten back to Voldemort yet?

He shuddered as he thought about that meeting. The Dark Lord was planning an attack on Hogwarts that even Severus thought had a good chance of being successful. Since he was pretending to be a spy for the Dark Lord, he had to give up some information about the wards and the protections on the school. As long as some of what he said was true, Voldemort continued to believe him.

He started at a knock on his chamber door. Shutting off the tap, he wrapped himself in his favorite black terry cloth robe and went to see who was banging on his door.

“Potter!”

“Harry,” the boy corrected quietly.

“Harry. What are you doing here?”

“I – I had to know that you were okay.”

Severus softened a bit and waved Harry inside.

“I’m all right, Harry. I was in the shower.”

“I see. I just wanted to – to see you. To make sure you hadn’t been hurt.”

“Harry, I’m perfectly –”

Once again, Severus found himself pinned to the wall by Harry, but this time Harry was kissing him on the mouth.

Harry was not a very good kisser. Hoping it was just lack of experience, Severus tentatively kissed him back.

They stayed that way, glued together at the lips until they were both gasping for breath. Then Severus pulled back, surprise evident on his face.

“Now, do you mind telling me what that was about?”

“I know how to kill Volde – sorry. The Dark Lord. I know how to kill him.”


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

First off let me just say that I should be murdered for not updating sooner! I had this written out ages and ages ago, and thought that I had posted it the day I wrote it. Then I just happened to get an email from FF.net telling me someone was waiting for an update . . . I panicked. Anyway, once you read this you can come to my house and murder me for not realizing sooner that I hadn’t finished the story! *chews fingernails and locks front door tightly*

 

\- - - - - Once again, Severus found himself pinned to the wall by Harry, but this time Harry was kissing him on the mouth.

Harry was not a very good kisser. Hoping it was just lack of experience, Severus tentatively kissed him back.

They stayed that way, glued together at the lips until they were both gasping for breath. Then Severus pulled back, surprise evident on his face.

“Now, do you mind telling me what that was about?”

“I know how to kill Volde – sorry. The Dark Lord. I know how to kill him.” - - - - - - - -

 

It was all too simple really. Someone should have thought it up weeks ago. All they would have to do was to douse the Dark Lord and all his followers in the Shrinking Solution Snape had fallen victim to. Then they would be vulnerable, and killing them would be easy. Not only would they be bite-sized morsels for Hedwig and the other owls, but they would be unable to use their wands. It was perfect.

Or almost perfect. The hard part was getting enough of the botched potion to use on the Death Eaters.

“We can make more,” Harry said hopefully as he accepted a steaming cup of tea from Snape. 

Severus sighed and sank down onto the sofa next to Harry. “It’s not that simple, Potter.”

“Harry,” Harry said absently. “And why not? Those potions masters analyzed it, surely they can recreate it?”

“They analyzed it to develop an antidote, not to make a whole cauldron full. I doubt that potion could be recreated at all, no matter how much analysis took place! It was an accident. Merlin only knows what Longbottom did to it!”

“We could get Neville to remake it!” Harry said triumphantly. “Maybe he’ll make the same mistake twice!”

Severus raised an eyebrow, but chose to say nothing. Longbottom couldn’t even do the right thing twice in a row, let alone do the wrong thing twice. Or could he?

“It’s an interesting theory, however,” he said after a few moments of silence, “it is more than unlikely. The chances of Longbottom making the same mistake twice . . .”

“We could always try, though,” Harry said, sounding somewhat hurt.

Severus took Harry’s teacup from him and set it on the end table. “There’s something else I’d rather try just now, Mr. Potter.”

Harry shivered. The look in Snape’s eyes as he said that . . . he was in for a real treat.

“Lie back. Relax. And watch me.”

Severus smirked as he reached over and undid the zip of Harry’s trousers. Green eyes followed him as he leaned over, took Harry out. A hot mouth closed around Harry’s soft member and began to suck gently, bringing him to full attention.

“Uhhg,” was the noise Harry made in the back of his throat as the sucking grew more intense. Snape was doing something with his tongue – swirling it around – oh, oh, oh . . .

“YESSSS!” Harry screamed and bucked his hips frantically. His eyes flew closed of their own accord. All too soon his orgasm was upon him. He writhed uncontrollably as Snape swallowed him down. And then it was over and he collapsed, limp and panting, back onto the sofa.

“That was – short,” Severus said, sitting up and repositioning himself on the sofa. “Was that your first blowjob?”

Harry blushed. A short nod followed, and then he turned his face away, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment.

“I thought as much,” Severus said, putting Harry to rights again. “You shouldn’t feel bad. My first time was just as short. The intensity. . .”

Harry turned back as Snape trailed off, thinking. “Who was your first?”

“Can you not guess?” Severus said as he stood and stretched. “I had only one friend while at Hogwarts. Well, two, but only one that I fully trusted. He was in Slytherin, just a couple of years older than me.”

“Malfoy,” Harry said quietly.

“Yes. Lucius Malfoy.” Snape turned away from Harry and took a couple of steps toward the fireplace mantle and a picture of Lucius he had there. “He told me that he . . . well, never mind. Suffice it to say that he led me to believe that he cared, only to turn at the last minute to Narcissa Black.”

“And that’s why you think no one will love you?” Harry asked quietly. “Because of what he did?”

“Yes. I – wait a minute, Potter. Where did you get the idea that I –”

“From Dumbledore,” Harry interrupted.

Severus whipped around, his pale face contorted in rage. “So he told you, did he? Told you everything about me? I knew this whole thing was suspicious from the start! He set this up and told you everything so that you could ‘break into my shell’ or some other such rubbish. Tell me, Potter, what else do you know about me? Did he tell you that I was afraid of heights? Or that I can’t swim? Or maybe he told you about the secret crush I had on your father, is that it?”

Harry wisely said nothing. He allowed Severus to continue yelling at him, letting the words fall on deaf ears. He very calmly stood up and took Severus’ hands in his own. Taking advantage of Snape’s open mouth, he leaned forward and kissed him. Severus fell silent from shock.

“I think we argue every time we do something sexual, don’t we, Professor?” Harry said quietly. “Right after, we’re always yelling at each other. I don’t know if I can take it. So either you stop yelling at me all the time, or –”

“Or what? You’ll leave? Go ahead. Get out, Potter.”

Harry sighed. “No. I was going to say, ‘Stop yelling at me’ again. You’ve only got one choice, Snape. I’m not leaving. Not until we come up with a way to kill Volde – sorry. The Dark Lord.”

“It’s Dumbledore you should be talking to.”

“I want to talk to you about it. Is there something wrong with that?”

Severus groaned and let Harry lead him back to the sofa. 

“Oh, and did I hear you say something about a crush on my father?”

Before Severus could begin another tirade, Harry leaned over and kissed him. 

“Relax. I was joking.”

 

Neville was already sweating and he hadn’t even begun making the potion yet. Harry had said that recreating the botched potion was important, but he hadn’t revealed too much about it.

Snape sat in the corner of the classroom, his quill inked and ready to record Neville’s procedure exactly. Not only was this potion an important part of the plan to bring down the Dark Lord, it was also an important discovery in the potions field. A permanent shrinking solution, which needed only a few drops and didn’t have to be taken internally. Snape was dying to know the secret.

“Well, Longbottom? What are you waiting for?”

Neville nervously picked up the parchment with his notes and began trying to chop the first ingredient, though his hands were shaking so badly he was sure he was going to cut off his own finger. He took a deep breath to calm himself and began to work.

It took all of Snape’s effort to just sit and watch the boy work. When Neville began to “chop” his ginger root, his first instinct was to snap and take house points. Where on earth had the boy gotten the idea that chopping meant hacking at the root so? But he forced himself to bite his tongue and say nothing. That may very well be an important part of the process. 

As Neville continued to work, Snape began to find himself holding his breath. Soon, it would be time to test the potion. There was plenty of antidote on hand in case it truly worked.

At last the final ingredient had been thrown into the cauldron and Neville stepped back to let it simmer. When at last he extinguished the fire beneath the pewter cauldron, Snape was disappointed. It was only a passable temporary shrinking potion, the potion Neville was supposed to make in class on that fateful day.

 

“We’ll just have to try again!” Harry said exasperatedly. “It’s just got to work!”

“Harry –” Snape began.

“No. You’ve just got to do it again!”

“The chances of Longbottom messing up now –”

“Do it again.”

 

So they did it again. And again. And again. And again. For three weeks they worked. Neville made the potion every night, and the only thing that happened was that he got better and better at making the simple shrinking solution. Snape was getting impatient.

“Longbottom, you might as well just leave. When you are supposed to make a potion the right way you can’t, and when we ask you to make it the wrong way you can’t do that either. You are the most incompetent boy I have ever met. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to make it this far in life!”

A miraculous thing happened just then. Nervous at what Snape might do when he was angry, Neville dropped in the wrong ingredient. He panicked and began stirring hastily, trying desperately to keep the ingredient from screwing up his latest work. Right before his eyes, the potion began to bubble up, nearly reaching the rim now . . .”

“Professor –”

“What is it, Longbottom?”

Too late. The heated concoction overflowed, streaming out of the cauldron. Snape got to his feet hastily. 

“Step back from it, boy. You don’t want to be the tester, do you? What if this time you’ve made some kind of deadly poison?”

Neville’s eyes widened and he climbed to stand on his stool. Had he done it? Had he really done what Harry had asked him to do?

Severus cautiously scooped up some of the potion into a phial and examined its color and consistency.

“Longbottom,” he said quietly. “I believe you may have just found a permanent shrinking solution. Congratulations.”

 

He was right. The potion was a huge success, and Snape had the notes so he could recreate it in his lab. Oh, what recognition he was going to get in the potions world! He would be interviewed and written about for months! Maybe even get to write an article for Potions Monthly!

First, though, he had to help Harry set up for his plan to kill the Dark Lord.

They would have to find a way of inconspicuously dropping some of the potion onto him. A few drops would be sufficient, though it had to be skin-to-skin contact. How could they do it?

“Okay, how’s this,” Harry said eagerly. “You get a big balloon and fill it with the potion. And then you throw it at him. Once he’s hit there’s nothing he can do about it, and if the other Death Eaters run over to help him then they’re caught, too.”

Severus smirked. The Dark Lord would never suspect something so juvenile. Perhaps Harry had a point.

 

So that’s what they did. Severus, with the aid of Alana Masterson, filled a couple of large balloons with potion, and then he hid them in his robes. He waited until he was summoned, which was only a week, and then he positioned himself so he could throw them without being seen.

It worked like a charm. It’s always amazing how the simplest and most juvenile of ideas work so well. The Dark Lord, splashed with the new potion, rapidly shrunk to a size of three inches, and when the other Death Eaters saw it they ran to help him. Severus laughed, watching them slip and slide in the spilt potion. This was perhaps the funniest thing he’d seen in his life. He swept all of the tiny men and women into a cardboard box and then took them back to Hogwarts.

It went out all over the world – the Dark Lord and his minions had been doused in shrinking solution. While not dead, exactly, they were the perfect bite-sized morsels for owls and cats, and none of them could do any magic. Harry, for one, had fun tormenting Voldemort until he began to cry, begging for his life. Harry couldn’t spare him. The prophecy said that he had to kill him. It only took a second for Hedwig to gobble the snake-man up. 

 

“Well, Harry,” Severus said with a content sigh, “You were completely right.”

Harry grinned. “Yep. I killed Voldemort, or rather I let Hedwig do away with him, and now I am free, and you are free, and we’re all free.”

“You’re drunk, Mr. Potter.”

“Harry!” said the young man, still wearing his stupid grin. “And yes, I am. Care to join me?”

“I think not,” Snape smirked. “I will, however, not refrain from taking advantage of you.”

“SEVERUS!” Harry squealed as his lover lifted him and swept the both of them to the bedroom. It was going to be a wonderful evening.


End file.
